


Amadeus

by backwards_wordsmith



Series: Amadeus [1]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Child Death, F/M, Healer and the Warrior, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Siblings At Arms, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-04 07:19:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 41
Words: 147,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4129491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/backwards_wordsmith/pseuds/backwards_wordsmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luciana is a warrior. Her body, her mind, are made to fight. She belongs in the battlefield, letting loose her fury and breaking the enemies of the Alliance. She is a weapon. </p><p>Anduin is a prince, a healer, and his father is determined to give him everything he needs. Varian sees that Luciana is a warrior, a dangerous berserker, but he can see what lies underneath. And Varian is a master of the game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The House of Amadeus

**Author's Note:**

> A long fic featuring mostly OCs at first because the Warcraft universe is extremely expansive with a lot of room for headcanon and original characters. Officer ranks are from in-game.

“House Amadeus was never the richest of the noble houses, but it was and is one of the most influential. Well-known for the intelligence and cunning of its scions, it had prospered through alliances and careful manoeuvring through the court, and around its rivals. They are also heavily involved in trade between Stormwind, Ironforge, and Gnomeregan, and were one of the main financers of the Deeprun Tram. There is reason to believe that it will soon change direction - even though the current generation of the main branch is similar to those that came previously, it is also different. Two sons and three daughters were born to Mannarie, originally of house Hyldeste, and Bertrand Amadeus. From youngest to oldest, they are Frederic at nine years, Dania at twelve, Ophelia at thirteen, Luciana at nineteen, Desmond at twenty-four and Bannister at twenty-five.”

“Professor, I thought they had three sons?” one of his students asked.

“Ah, yes. My bad. Three sons and three daughters. Having two sons as their first children was considered to be a sign of impending martial prowess. And, indeed, the family became known for its contributions to the Stormwind Imperial Army. It was not the sons of Amadeus that brought this notoriety. Rather, it was their first daughter - Luciana, who joined the Imperial Military Academy at thirteen, became an Officer Cadet at sixteen, and a Knight at eighteen.

When she joined, there were whispers of how displeased her mother was with her choices. It was said, Mannarie wanted a graceful, feminine girl to take after her. To marry young, and cement an alliance with another powerful noble house. But Luciana fiercely rejected this role, taking up the sword after watching her brothers train under their tutor, Sir William MacFeyn. Every night, she could be seen in the sparring rings, hefting practice swords too large for her body. The sword favoured her, it would seem, more so than it did her elder brothers. Her mother was furious and the first attempt at controlling Luciana could be seen when the girl was only ten years old.

Soon, she was actively rebelling against her mother’s rule, even when her younger sister Ophelia was started to come into her own - and then Dania, a year later. The two were exactly what Lady Mannarie wanted. Two lovely, graceful and intelligent ladies after her own heart. Still, she tried to force cooperation from her eldest daughter. Luciana, for her part, attempted to sway her mother’s attention to her sisters. Unsuccessful, she finally turned to her brothers, who spirited her away to the Military Academy at thirteen. The rest, they say, is history. Or rather, it will be some day.”

Harrison Jones cleared his throat and turned to his desk, indicating the end of the lesson. As usual, his more dedicated followers stayed behind to ask questions he was only too happy to answer. Today’s lesson had started with the origins of the noble houses, and their original purpose, and he thought it ended on a good note. His last line was one he was especially proud of.

 

In the Amadeus family manor, the people he had spoken of were sitting in a tense silence, waiting for the last member of their family to descend the stairs to the family’s dining hall. She had taken ship from her station in the Arathi Basin for weekend leave, but had only arrived a few hours ago. She was likely enjoying having basic indoor plumbing again. Frederic, still wide-eyed and innocent, was kicking his legs back and forth. He was bored. “I’m bored,” he whined. Mannarie sighed, her nostrils flaring. Bertrand chuckled.

“We can see that, Frederic. Dania, why don’t you go see how your sister fares?”

“No,” Mannarie said. “We will start without her. If she cannot be on time to the one meal we have as a family, she can starve until breakfast tomorrow.”

“Mother!” Desmond said, aghast. “She has just returned from a battlefield! Have mercy on her.”

“It was her own choice,” Mannerie said. “She knew the consequences when she became a Knight.” She sniffed, looking decidedly unhappy. “She should have stayed here, like I wanted.”

“Enough,” Bannister sighed, pushing his chair back and standing. “I’ll go find her.” He ignored the look his mother sent at his back, and climbed the lavishly carpeted stairs to the family’s private quarters. The heavy oaken doors were open, as they currently didn’t have any guests. The guards to either side bowed their heads as he passed.

Luciana’s room was near the far end, and it took a minute to reach it. He knocked, waited, and knocked again. “Lucy?” he called.

“Hold on a moment,” she snapped. A few moments later, the door opened. She was partially undressed, bandages around her chest and ribs. The left side of her face was bruised, but they were partially healed and yellowed already. Her entire left side was still brown and purple, and her left arm was carefully wrapped to support the joints, her shoulder especially. “Bann,” she sighed. “I know, I’m keeping everyone waiting.” She gestured to her shoulder. “I can’t get my shirt on. Obviously.”

“Let me help,” Bannister said with a grin. “Before mother has a fit.”

Luciana scowled, her nose pulling up. She quickly smoothed the expression. “I wish I hadn’t returned,” she admitted quietly, sitting on the edge of her bed while Bannister unlaced the back of her chosen tunic. Deep blue in color, with white edging. It was not the most feminine piece of clothing in the manor, to be certain. “I don’t like it here anymore. I prefer the barracks.”

“I know,” Bannister soothed, holding up her tunic. She held up her left arm as high as it would go and he slipped the sleeve over it. Before long she was appropriately dressed, and he cinched a belt loosely around her waist. Her tunic flowed over her black leggings, accentuating her figure and her authoritative stance. “But we all miss you. Even mother. You know she tries her best.”

“It doesn’t matter that she tries her best. She hurts me every time she speaks.”

Bannister regarded his younger sister for a moment. “You stand like grandfather,” he commented. “Always did.”

“I wanted to be like him. Now I am like me.”

“For what it’s worth,” Bannister started, slinging his arm over her shoulders with care to her injuries. “We’re proud of you. Me, Desmond, Father. Even Frederic. And Ophelia and Dania adore you. They look up to you.”

“I pray they don’t follow my footsteps. Having Mother treat them like she treats me would destroy them.”

“They’re perfectly happy with courtly duties,” Bannister promised. “I’ve even heard them talking about boys lately. Boys! Soon I’ll have to beat them off the two troublemakers.”

“I’m sure they can protect their own reputations.”

“Oh, certainly. I meant the painters. You know they’ll be all over those two when they grow up a bit more. ‘Stately elegance,’ like Mother always says.”

“Ugh.”

They descended the stairs together, Bannister retracting his arm to allow his sister the space she needed. She was a warrior to the core, and though she was well used to being familiar and physical with her men in the barracks, when she dressed as a noble she carried herself as one. Aloof, untouchable, cold - even to her own family. Bannister never minded it. She was his baby sister. When his mother had brought her home, he had absolutely fallen in love with the tiny thing. She wasn’t so tiny anymore, standing taller than average. A late growth spurt had brought her height to nearly five feet and seven inches. Unusual for a woman, but normal for a warrior.

She walked stiffly, her leg likely bothering her if the bruises on her side were any indication. Her mother frowned when she saw her. “I see you are injured. Again,” she sniffed.

“It happens when one is in a battlefield, Mother,” Luciana replied calmly. It took a lot to ruffle her. Anger and annoyance were ever short-lived on her face, if she allowed them to appear at all. That, certainly, was not the norm for a warrior. Perhaps it was normal for a Knight.

“How goes it?” Bertrand asked. “Any headway?”

“We’ve pushed the Horde back for the most part, but the Forsaken are like cockroaches.”

“That is no way to talk at the table, young lady,” Mannarie warned. “Come. Now that Luciana has deigned to join us, we will eat.”

Luciana’s eyes were often shuttered windows. That is, unless her mother was involved. There was a long-standing argument between the two - Mannarie wanted a daughter, she complained, not another son. Luciana wanted to be herself, she insisted, and her life was not Mannarie’s life by proxy.

“Luciana,” Frederic said. “You cut your hair?”

“It was getting a bit too long for me,” she answered, smiling honestly. “I quite like it this length.”

“It frames your face, dear,” Mannarie said. “You would look lovely with a bit of rose on your cheeks.”

Luciana’s expression fell to its neutral state, a carefully carved mask of neutrality and mild interest. Perfect for a noble, but also for an officer of the army. “Thank you, Mother,” she said evenly.

“It would be a waste out there, of course,” Mannarie continued, oblivious to the look Desmond was giving her. A warning to stop while she was ahead. This always ended up one way, and everyone could see it coming. They had years of practice. “If you come home, I can arrange...”

“I am home now, Mother,” Luciana cut in smoothly. “Out there, as you say, is my squadron. Eight loyal soldiers that I lead.”

“You could lead an entire House,” Mannarie stated, carefully carving pieces from her lamb cutlet.

“I will leave that to those better suited to it,” Luciana said calmly. “How about we put this aside while we eat dinner?” she suggested. “We can discuss it later, in the parlor.”

“Very well.” Mannarie approved of her diplomacy and showed it with a nod and a gracious smile.

“Ah, while you’re here, Luciana,” Bertrand said after a moment of silence. “There’s something I’d like to discuss. I believe it’s a good idea, all considering, but I would seek your approval since it does involve you.”

“What is it, Father?” Luciana asked, curious.

“As the Prince will be of age soon, I believe in eight or so months,” he started, “the court has been searching for a suitable match, a woman who is capable of ruling someday alongside the good Prince. All noble Houses are sending at least one proposal, and I have no doubt that some will be outside of the stated range of ages that was deemed appropriate. That is, he will receive many who are too young, or too old.”

“And this involves me?” Luciana asked when he fell silent.

“Yes. Your sisters are of ages that were deemed too young for the Prince, who is seventeen now. I imagine socializing with a twelve or thirteen year old would not leave a good impression on the young man, despite the maturity and grace I know you two possess.” He was quick to mollify the two girls, who had puffed up in preadolescent indignation. “But you, Luciana, are not quite two years his senior. Within the range stated by the court. I would send a proposal on your behalf to their consideration.”

“Do you think it would actually be accepted?” she asked, blandly. 

“Of course not,” her father said dismissively. Mannarie made to comment but he hurried to continue. “They are searching for a graceful Lady, who will make a fine companion and advisor. They don’t want to chance someone will overpower the Prince, and certainly they wouldn’t want to take a promising young Officer from the army. Still, it would make a good impression. The House of Amadeus will show its willingness to work alongside the House of Wrynn, and also its eligibility. We will remind everyone of the dedication we have consistently shown to the kingdom, and to the Alliance.”

“I see no issue with it,” Luciana said. “If you truly believe they will not accept it, then I have no qualms being considered.”

“That’s settled, then. I will write it out tonight. Thank you.”

Luciana nodded graciously to her father. “Ophelia,” she said. “How go your studies? Last I heard you were interested in theater.”

“Oh, it’s wonderful!” Ophelia gushed. “My tutor says I have the talent for it.” She spent the rest of the meal telling her elder sister all about the plays she had gone through with her favourite tutor, and by the time desert came she was tiring.

“And Dania, are you still enjoying maths?” Luciana prompted.

Dania hummed in agreement, finishing her bite of toasted oats and fruit before speaking. Honey dripped lazily from her fork. “I like it,” she said simply. “I can understand things with it.”

“That’s good,” Luciana praised. “Not everyone can grasp numbers as well as you. It’s a talent, and if you work at it with your tutor I’m sure you can do something amazing with it.”

Dania blushed to her ears and looked down at her plate. She idolized Luciana and hearing her praise her unusual talents made her incredibly happy. “Thank you,” she said.

“Luciana, tell me about orcs!” Frederic said. “I wanna hear about how you fought them off at the mines!”

“That is not appropriate for the table,” Mannarie scolded lightly.

“Aw, but Mother!” Frederic whined.

“Frederic, if you’re good, I’ll tell you some stories later tonight in front of the fire,” Luciana promised, and Frederic beamed at her with a gap-toothed smile.

True to her words, when the clocks chimed eight o’clock, she sat in an antique armchair in front of the fire with Frederic in her lap. “It was dark,” she started. “Not quite night, but the sun was finished setting and we couldn’t see well. The moon was just a tiny sliver that night.” She held up her fingers, nearly touching, to illustrate. Frederic watched her raptly with wide chocolate eyes. “Orcs, as you know, can see much better than us in the dark. So we had to listen, listen,” she whispered. “Listen closely for any signs of their approach. My soldiers are well-trained, and we crouched in the brush, listening.” She held up her finger and cocked her head, miming a dog listening closely. “We listened. And we heard...” she paused.

“What? What did you hear?” Frederic asked, pulling at her arm. She smiled.

“We heard orcs!”

“Oh no!”

“Yes! Orcs, sneaking towards us in the darkness of night, huffing breaths and shuffling leather boots...”

“What did you do?”

“Patience, Frederic. I’m getting there.” She tapped his nose with her fingertip. Her left arm, sore and weak, was laid out on the chair arm. The other curled around Frederic protectively as she spoke. “We heard them, and our first instinct was to jump up with our swords and fight them off. But,” she said. “But, I thought. They will see us, but we will not see them. But, we can hear them. So I told my men, as quietly as I could, to wait.”

“And then the orcs found you?”

“No, not quite.” She chuckled. “We waited, and waited. My men were impatient - there were orcs nearby, and they wanted to fight them off. But, I told them to wait. So they did.”

“And then?”

“And then,” Luciana said quietly. “Then, I told them to spread out to either side of the entrance to the mines. Let the orcs get close. Let the orcs say, there are no humans here! The mines will be ours!”

“No!”

“No, they were not,” Luciana agreed. “I had four men to each side of the entrance. When the orcs were between us...” she paused, and Frederic bounced in her lap in suspense. “We struck!”

“With swords!” he cried.

“Yes! We struck with our swords and our shields. The orcs were caught by surprise! There were ten of them and nine of us, but of course, we were the victors. My men are very well trained, and we had the element of surprise,” she said. “That was very important. The orcs were not prepared to face us.”

“The Amadeus Squadron is the best!” Frederic declared.

“Yes, we like to think so,” Luciana said with a humouring smile. “We fought, and we fought. Orcs are big and fierce, but we had luck on our side and we fought them off.”

“Yeah!”

“Yeah, indeed,” she laughed. “We fought them off, and the mines were ours until morning, when reinforcements arrived. I was told, Knight Amadeus. We have taken the mines, but you must hold them until morning. And so, I did.”

“You’re the best!” Frederic cried. “You’re the strongest Knight in the Army!”

“Maybe someday I will be,” she said. “For now, though, it’s time to get you to bed.”

“Aw, but Sister, I want to hear another story!” he cried plaintively, playing with her fingers.

“Well,” she said hesitantly. 

“Please? Please, please, please? With a cherry on top?”

“Maybe a little story,” she acquiesced. 

“Yes! Thank you, thank you!”

“Would you like to hear... about draenei?”

“Oh.” His eyes shone. “I’ve never heard a story about draenei.”

“Yes, draenei are our allies,” she said slowly. “They are alien, from another world called Argus. Their world was destroyed when the demons of the Burning Legion came.”

“Oh, no,” he said, frowning.

“Oh, but they were smart. The draenei, with their leader Prophet Velen, escaped! To Draenor, where they lived with the orcs in peace for many years. But the Burning Legion found them again, and they were forced to flee once more.

“No!”

“Yes,” she said solemnly. “But, not all hope is lost. They landed here, on Azeroth. Can you say where they landed?”

“Azuremyst Isle,” he said dutifully. “Next to the night elves, who live in Teldrassil. The Big Tree.”

“Good. The World Tree,” she corrected with a smile. “Yes, they landed on Azuremyst Isle. They fought alongside us when the Dark Portal opened, and then in Northrend, where they proved invaluable. And in the Cataclysm, it was their ancient wisdom that allowed us to be victorious over Deathwing.”

“We have his chin,” Frederic giggled.

“Mm, we do. A piece of it, anyway. The draenei,” she continued. “Are taller than we are, and have legs like goats, with hooves and fur. And a tail that they tickle little children with!” She tickled his side and he squirmed and giggled. “They have horns, like a goat or sometimes a ram, and the males have crests.” She put her hand on her forehead. “They rise up, from their heads, like crowns.”

“Are they royalty?”

“No, but they stand tall and proud, as they should. The draenei live in their home, their ship The Exodar, which they used to fly between the stars to Azeroth. Maybe one day, they will tell you all about it.”

“I hope so. I like the stars.”

“Me, too. The draenei’s eyes glow bright,” she said, blinking owlishly down at Frederic to make him giggle again. “Because they are blessed with the Holy Light.”

“Are they all priests?”

“No, but many are. Paladins, as well. And all are blessed by the Naaru, creatures of the Light who traveled with them from world to world. The Naaru said, join us in the Light, and fight against the demons of the Burning Legion. One day, you will be victorious. The draenei recognized the goodness of the Light, and joined the Naaru. They say that their leader, the good Prophet Velen, was so blessed that he became immortal, and that he has visions of the future that might one day come to pass. And they say, over his head, there is a sigil of holy Light that illuminates him. He is wise, and good,” she said. “And he leads his people the draenei alongside our kingdom.”

“Wow,” Frederic breathed. “Have you met a draenei?”

“Yes, I have,” she said. “I have met several. Aelka, a warrior whose prowess is unmatched. She is a fierce fighter, but also very gentle. She is a herbalist, I believe. Always has dirt on her hands. Like you!” She tickled him again and he squealed. “And Enaeon, a male. He is a paladin,” she said. “And the Light is strong in his heart. He healed my Corporal, you know,” she said. “He was very big. Taller than Desmond,” she said. Desmond was the tallest of their family. Frederic had a hard time imagining it.

“No way!” he insisted.

“Yes, way,” she said gravely. “Their males are usually about seven and a half feet tall! That’s two feet more than me!”

“They have four feet?”

“No, silly,” she said. “When I stand, they are taller than me by two feet. About this much.” She held her hands out with a vertical distance between them. “And they are very wide at the shoulders. When one of their paladins is dressed in his full armour, he is quite the sight.”

“Wow.”

“Yes. I know. I was shocked when I first met Enaeon. But he is a good man, and a friend. Now, then. It really is time for bed.”

“I’m not tired,” Frederic insisted, but his yawn said otherwise.

“You are,” Luciana said gently. “Come, let’s get you to bed.”

“Okay,” he grumbled.

“Have you brushed your teeth?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’ve washed your face?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Then go and say goodnight to Mother and Father. I’ll wait for you in your room.”

“Okay.”

He ran up the hall to their parent’s room and peeked his head in. He disappeared for a minute, and came back with his hair slicked back. “Mother did my hair,” he complained. “I’m going to bed. Why does she need to do my hair?”

Luciana laughed, ruffling his hair to resemble the style he usually wore after playing in the gardens. “I’m not sure, Frederic,” she said. “Come on.”

His chubby hand found hers and she guided him with slow steps to his room. It was next to the master bedroom, but the hallway was shaped like an L and it was a good twenty feet to his door.

He was already in his sleepwear and Luciana tucked him in, sitting on the edge of his bed. “G’night, Sister,” he mumbled, already close to sleep. She brushed hair away from his face and pressed a light kiss to his forehead.

“Goodnight, Frederic,” she said quietly. She left the door open by a few inches, as he liked it.

She wandered down to the family’s parlor, where she knew her mother would be waiting after kissing Frederic goodnight. It was best to seek her out before she went after you. “Mother,” she greeted, closing the door behind her.

“Luciana, dear.” Mannarie approached and put her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. “How are you?”

“Fine. If you don’t mind, my left shoulder is quite sore.”

“Oh, sorry.” She retracted her hands and gestured to the armchairs. “Why don’t we sit and chat?” she asked.

“I’d rather stand. I’ve been sitting for a week on the boat.”

“Alright.” She turned and faced her daughter. “You know what I think of your... dalliance in the army,” she started.

“Calling it a dalliance is insulting to me, Mother,” Luciana said calmly.

“But that’s what it is. You belong here, with your family. In the court.”

“I belong where I feel I belong, and that is in the army.”

“You are a daughter of Amadeus!” Mannarie insisted, clasping her hands loosely in front of her. She began to slowly pace the parlor. “You belong here, doing your duties to your house!”

“You have two other daughters, and three sons, to fulfill those duties,” Luciana argued in a composed voice. She watched her mother pace, standing still with her hands to her sides. She tilted her chin up, slightly, and relaxed her facial muscles. “I go to the army to serve the kingdom. By giving one of your children to the Imperial Army, you show how dedicated you are to seeing Stormwind victorious.”

“We have many cousins in the forces,” she said, waving it off. “They don’t need you. You could do so much more, as a proper Lady in the court. Imagine! If you were a Lady, you could have a chance with the Prince. Queen of Stormwind,” she said. “How many people could you help as Queen?”

“I’m not well-suited to the court,” Luciana said.

“That’s because you’ve been around those ruffians too long.” Mannarie stopped in front of her, and though she was shorter she appeared to be looking down at her. “Luciana,” she started in a pleading tone. “Consider how much your siblings miss you. Frederic idolizes you! It would destroy him, Dania, and Ophelia to lose you. And how would your elder brothers feel, knowing they are responsible? That they sent you there to die?”

“You speak as though you’ve already planned my death,” Luciana said coolly, eyes narrowing slightly. Mannarie caught herself before she could step back, but her discomfort was clear.

“Not at all, my dear daughter,” she said smoothly, pacing again. “I am simply illustrating my point. You belong here.”

“I belong with my soldiers. In the army.”

“You belong here, with your family,” Mannarie said firmly. “I will hear no more of your foolishness,” she snapped suddenly. “I will send word to your commanding officers that they are to release you of your duties there so that you might return here...” She trailed off when she looked up, seeing the expression on Luciana’s face. It was not anger, but rather a cold fury that only a well-trained warrior could express while standing so perfectly calmly.

“You have overstepped your bounds, Mother,” Luciana said in a low voice. “If this is the treatment I receive each time I return home - the disrespect,” she spat. “The insult. You think you are so above me? To think you can decide my future for me?”

“I am your mother!” Mannarie cried, squaring her shoulders. “And you are still a foolish girl, wanting to play knights with your betters! I will see you returned home! Where you belong!”

Luciana took a deep breath, and eased her posture. She smiled slightly, and for all intents looked as calm as a still lake. “You have insulted me, my intelligence, my capabilities,” she said quietly. “I will not speak on this again until you have realized why I do not visit more often.” She made to leave the parlor, but paused next to her mother. She leaned down and spoke in a whisper. “I’ll give you a hint, and hope it pierces through the haze of arrogance that so blinds you to the truth. I don’t return home more often because you treat me like I am ten when I am nearing twenty. You treat my life as though it is your second chance. I am sorry you did not get the chance to marry your Knight, but I am not him, nor am I you.”

She left the parlor. Her brother Bannister waited outside with a carefully neutral face. He gestured, and she fell in step beside him. They reached the courtyard long before they spoke.

“I only heard a bit,” he said quietly. The night was well-lit under a full moon and its many stars. “I will be sorry to see you go. Will you at least wait until tomorrow? Frederic will want to see you off.”

“I was actually planning on staying a few days in the city. But not here. I have a room in the Old Town already paid for.”

“You knew?” he asked. “Of course you knew. You always know.”

“It pays to plan ahead. She’s only gotten worse since I graduated from the Academy.”

“I know.” He sighed, and put a warm hand on her back. “For what it’s worth,” he said. “I’m proud of you. Desmond is proud of you. Even Father is, even if he’s bad at showing it past Mother. Even the girls are proud of you, though it’s more for your silver tongue and good posture.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly. She hugged him, briefly. “I’m thankful for what you and Desmond did for me. If you hadn’t listened to me... If you hadn’t brought me to the Academy...”

“I don’t want to think about that,” he said. “The way you were as a child, right before you left, was terrifying. It was like you weren’t there. Already dead.”

“If Mother had forced me into her mold, I would’ve lost everything that made me who I am. I know she cares, but that doesn’t excuse her actions or her words.”

“I know.” He reached to pat her left shoulder, but thought better of it and patted her right one instead. “Are you leaving for the Old Town now? I’ll walk with you,” he offered. 

“I think I’d prefer to walk alone. Don’t worry. I’ll wear my coat.” She referred to the parade coat she owned as an officer. It was highly decorative and recognizable, and held the insignia of her rank. “I only have the one bag. I’ll be fine.”

“Be careful,” he said. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Brother,” she said with a small smile. “Tell the others I’ll be back tomorrow for lunch.”

“I will.”

Her walk through Old Town was a leisurely one. Most of the nobility had their manors outside the Cathedral Square or in the Trade District. Their members who held seats in the court usually had a place in the Keep itself, where they could be on hand for the King. The Amadeus family had taken an estate in the Dwarven District, where they could control their business with keen eyes, but their manor was in the shadow of the Cathedral itself, near the graveyards.

She passed by the edge of the Dwarven District, nodding or greeting the guards she passed by. When each noted her Officer’s badge, they saluted. “Knight,” they said, or, “My Lady” for those who recognized her as a member of a House.

Luciana reached the Old Town after a leisurely stroll. No one had bothered her, likely because it was Friday night and most people were exhausted after a hard day. There were still some folk wandering about like herself, or walking home from a tavern. She paid them no heed and when she reached the Pig and Whistle Tavern.

“Can I get you something?” a barmaid asked. “Sir?” she added with a smile.

“I have a room. Knight Luciana.”

“Of course. I’ll get the innkeeper.”

Maegen Tillman approached shortly thereafter, smiling much like the barmaid. “Knight Luciana,” she greeted. “I have your room ready, as you asked. Please, come with me.” Luciana followed her to the second floor, to a room a bit more secluded than the others. It was also the largest and most comfortably furnished, as was befitting a rich patron. “Is everything here to your liking?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Will you be having breakfast here? I can have a server bring it up for you at a certain time,” Maegen offered.

“No, I’ll be eating elsewhere.”

“Then, have a good weekend, Sir.”

“Thank you.” Luciana shut the door as Maegen bowed out, locking it with the key she had been given discreetly. Turning to the bed, she sighed heavily and went to inspect the coverings for bugs.


	2. Fury Tastes Like Iron

The next morning, Luciana woke with the sun. After spending the last six years rising at dawn, and sometimes even before, she could hardly help it. Still, she groaned and turned over. She had not slept well last night. She was accustomed to having seven other dependable fighters with her. How could she feel secure alone? Without a healer nearby, just in case? Thankfully, she only had two more days before she could return.

Now thoroughly awake, she got out of bed and fixed the covers dutifully. She splashed water on her face from the shallow basin, cooled during the night, and dressed. She left her Officer’s coat in her bag, instead pinning her insignia of rank over the right breast of her light spring coat. It was her favourite shade of dark blue, edged with gold trimmings and silver details over the sides and back. The front was left plain, save for a small crest at the bottom corner. 

The House of Amadeus had a crest of delicate filigree and two wolves rearing up to bat at each other’s faces. Each had a horn on their forehead and great fangs. An eagle spread its wings above them, its tail feathers tickling the chests of the wolves. Two spears crossed, gripped in the eagle’s talons. It was easily recognizable, even to those outside the House of Nobles. She left the top few buttons of her coat undone.

She found a small eatery tucked into a corner of the Old Town, mostly occupied with men and women hung over from their revelries the previous night. She knew the place from her childhood, but hadn’t visited in some time. There was music playing from a street corner - someone was singing along to a fiddle. It mixed with music from inside a shop somewhere, something slower and more refined and slightly tinny from the record player. “Mornin’, m’Lady,” the greeter said, bowing his head to her. He had a nervous smile. “Not often we get a Lady down here.”

“Knight, please,” she corrected quietly. He bowed his head again.

“Right, right. Knight is it. What can we do for you this mornin’, Knight?”

“I’m here to eat breakfast,” she said blandly. “Do you have a table not surrounded by the stench of stale beer?”

“Ah, yes. Right over here.” He led her to a semi-secluded corner, away from the general stench in the place. “Usually ain’t quite so bad. Last night there was a party someplace in the Trade. Someone had a kid, I think.”

“I wish them well,” she said. “Thank you.” She took the paper menu from his hands, which he wrung nervously. “Relax, man. I’m only here for two days. I can’t wait to go back to the Basin.”

“Oh, you’re serving in Arathi?” he said. “How’s the fight? Heard it was goin’ well.”

“It is. Only the Forsaken pose a problem, as always. They’re cockroaches under our heels. Where there’s one, there’s a dozen more.”

“Ah, I bet.” He grinned, hastily closing his mouth to hide his two missing teeth.

“Be honest,” she said, glancing up at him. “How safe are the eggs here?”

“Fresh every mornin’,” he said. “Guaranteed from the Knowles farm, just outside the walls.”

“Good enough.” She sighed, and handed him the menu. “Three eggs, scrambled plain. Aside the freshest fruits you have. Honey, if you have it.”

“Aye, Knight,” he said, bowing his head before hurrying away. She garnered a few stares, but most were still inebriated and for the most part, she was ignored.

Her food arrived quickly, and she ate leisurely. As leisurely as a soldier could. She read the news paper the greeter gave her, and noted that he did not give such personalized service to everyone in the eatery. When she was finished, she gathered her coins, paying more than the meal was worth. She also handed the greeter two gold coins. “One for each you and the cook,” she told him, patted his shoulder, and left with the newspaper in hand.

“Thank you, Knight!” he whispered, hiding the coins and rushing over to the kitchens.

She wandered the city for several hours, revisiting places from her youth. It had been a year since she’d last visited, and that week had been full of family activities to reacquaint her with her rapidly growing younger siblings. Everywhere she went there were people taking advantage of the warm sun and good weather. Music teased her ears wherever she walked. One good thing, she found, about being in the city. There was always music, of any variety one cared to ask after.

Not long into her meandering walk, Luciana found herself in the Trade District’s Merchant Square, where merchants hawked their wares at anyone who passed. “Silver, real silver!” one woman called. “Sterling quality for the lovely ladies in your life! Real silver! We buy, trade, and sell real silver!”

“Fresh-picked fruit from the orchards in the Abbey!” another cried. “Apples, plums, grapes! Freshest fruit you’ll find, straight from the Abbey!”

She picked up an apple for a few copper and ate it absently. The juice ran and she licked at it to keep it from going down her chin.

“Books from Gilneas! Books from Ironforge! Books from the gnomes! Books from Gilneas! Books from Ironforge!” She approached the stall, and the man behind the counter smiled and gestured proudly to his wares. Piles of books in varying states of wear, and quality, were laid out for perusal. “Books from Gilneas, Ironforge, and Gnomeregan!” he said.”Take your pick, good Knight!” He winked at her, glancing to the insignia pinned to her chest. “Special discount for those in the Armed Forces,” he promised. “Premium rates! Books from Gilneas! Books from Ironorge! Take your pick! Books from the gnomes! Books, books, books on everything you can think of!”

There was a book on Gilnean history that caught her eye. Luciana leafed through it to check accuracy, and handed over sixty copper for it. She then chose a book on Dwarven blacksmithing techniques, and haggled for thirty-five copper because of the state of its spine. Another book, smaller but filled with tiny letters - a fictional novel about a rogue with a good heart and his struggles with the law. Fifteen copper for it, and she was offered a small leather satchel. “For you,” the man said. “Only fifty copper pieces. Special discount for a Knight such as yourself. Regular’s seventy-six.”

She accepted, and continued her walk through the square. She slipped the books into the bag and secured its buttoned flap. “Pumpkin pies! Apples pies! Pastries on the go!” She approached the stall through a small crowd of buyers, pointing out an apple turnover dusted with sugar and a salted caramel tart. She purchased a tiny pecan pie, meant only for two people, and a glass jar full of sugared nuts. Each item save the jar was delicately wrapped in linen and she placed the treats carefully in her bag.

She tossed a silver piece to a street performer who balanced on his head and spun around, and then cart wheeled around the small crowd that had gathered to watch. He dipped into a low bow for her coin, and turned it into a roll that he hopped out of with a flourish.

A couple of young dogs ran past her, chased by a group of screaming, dirty, and very excited children. Their matron chased after them, excusing herself each time she bumped someone. Considering the crowded nature of the square, it was difficult for her. Luciana watched for a moment before moving on.

She returned to the Pig and Whistle several silver poorer, but it was nothing to the deep pockets of her House. She laid her findings out on the bed, set aside those meant for herself - a mithril ring for her thumb, a book on dangerous flora written by a night elf, and a thick glass jar of sweets she’d bring back to her squadron.

When the Cathedral bells tolled noon, Luciana was nearing her family estate. The guards each nodded to her in turn, letting her pass without comment. The Seneschal greeted her when she entered the lobby. “Lady Luciana,” he said, bowing at the waist. “Welcome back. Shall I take that?”

“To the family room, please,” she said, handing off her bag. He nodded and passed it to a maid with instructions, who scurried off to get the bag to the family room. Meant to entertain the various interests of the Amadeus children, the family room was large, airy, with its own private gardens and patio and a service entrance to the kitchens.

Frederic found her first, running into her legs with an excited squeal. “You’re back!” he cried. 

“Yes, I am!” she responded, crouching to pick him up. He laughed and wrapped his short arms around her neck, bouncing a little as she carried him outside. Desmond was showing Ophelia how to fence, but she wasn’t very good and her frustration was getting in the way.

“Patience, Ophelia,” Luciana said. “You’ll never get the part in the production if you can’t do a basic thrust. Be patient with yourself, practice how Desmond shows you. You’ll get it.”

“Sister!” Ophelia cried, dropping her foil and prancing over to Luciana. Desmond sighed theatrically and bent to pick it up.

“If I didn’t know better,” Luciana teased, giving Ophelia a one-armed hug. “I’d say you were meant for the theatre, Desmond.”

“Oh, hush,” he said, returning the foils to their place in the shed.

“Where did you go?” Ophelia asked. “When we woke this morning Bannister only said you’d be back today for lunch!”

“I didn’t want my arguing with Mother to get in the way of things,” Luciana said, sitting in a padded lawn chair with Frederic. He jumped out to chase Desmond, who pretended to be terrified as he jogged around the gardens with Frederic. “So I took a room in the Old Town. I’m here now.”

“We miss you, you know,” Ophelia said quietly. “When you leave. I never know if you’re coming back.”

“I’ll always come back,” Luciana promised. Ophelia perched delicately on the arm of the chair. “I wouldn’t leave my favourite siblings.”

“Frederic and me?” she asked dryly.

“All of you. Except, sometimes, Desmond,” she teased.

“What did I do this time?” he cried plaintively from the ground, where Frederic was pretending to be a heroic knight stabbing a black dragon.

“You know what you did!” she responded with a smile.

“Luciana!” Dania joined them, running over to plop down in her sister’s lap and hug her tightly. “I missed you at breakfast!”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “How can I make it up to you?”

“Hm.” She considered. “I don’t know if you can.”

“What about...” she started. “A pecan pie?”

“You didn’t?”

“I did! I got one for you and Ophelia to share. It looked so delicious I’m surprised it didn’t disappear on my way here!”

“Oh, Luciana!” Dania squealed, hugging her again. “You’re the best!”

“I certainly like to think so. Come, let me up.”

She stood carefully. Her bruised side was still very tender, and her shoulder ached from where Frederic had latched on like a burr. Dania tackling her in the chair hadn’t helped. “Bannister is in Father’s study,” Ophelia said dutifully, seeing Luciana looking around. “They’re looking over the proposal to the Prince.”

“Thank you. I’ll go see them, quickly.” She winked. “Maybe if you’re all good I can find some treats for each of you.”

“Me, too!” Desmond called, still lying on the ground. Frederic had abandoned him to chase after one of their companion dogs, a pug named Frogo. Odd name, but Frederic had decided on it and no one could deny him it, especially not since the dog actually answered to it. Desmond, for his part, seemed quite comfortable on the lush grass.

Luciana picked her way through the gardens, stepping over a narrow flower bed that wound partway around the patio. Her father’s study was on the second floor, above the private gardens where he could watch over his children while they played. The door was closed, so she knocked, and stood at attention while she waited. Soon, Bannister opened the door. “Ah, just the person we wanted to see.” His brow was furrowed, Luciana noted as she passed by. He shut the door behind her and both stood in front of the desk their father sat behind.

“Luciana. Welcome back,” the man said evenly. “You had a restful night, I hope?”

“I did.” She hadn’t, but he didn’t need to know that. “I apologize for leaving without warning last night, but Mother greatly overstepped herself and I wanted to avoid a... an argument,” she finished lamely. Bannister seemed to understand, if her father did not. “You were looking for me?” she prompted.

“Ah, yes.” Bertrand stood, holding out a packet of paper for her to take. “This is the tentative proposal for the Prince. Please take a look, after lunch. We’ll be eating shortly.”

“Understood.” Her attention was on the papers, and she noticed Bannister’s suddenly stiff shoulders at her word. “I’ll leave this in my room, then, and look at it later. Are we eating in the dining room, or the gardens? It’s quite nice out.”

“That’s a lovely idea. I think outside will be a nice change of pace. Spring is finally here!”

“There’s still snow,” Bannister said blandly.

“There’s always snow, except for that one week in summer,” Bertrand dismissed. “We’ll eat in the sun. It will be nice!”

“I’ll take this to my room,” Luciana said, holding up the papers. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

She brought her bag of treats with her to the family gardens. A musician was playing the piano in the lounge, the light tinkling notes carried outside on the breeze. Her siblings were already seated, save for Frederic who was crouched low, still petting Frogo. The pug lavished him with kisses for the attention and let out a high-pitched bark when he spotted Luciana. She leaned down to give his tiny head a pat, and guided Frederic to his seat. Their parents joined them shortly, and crisp salads were brought out as entrees.

“How was your night?” Mannarie asked politely, looking at Luciana.

“Just fine, thank you. I had a lovely breakfast, eggs fresh from the Knowles farm with fruit. I spent a few hours in the Merchant Square.”

“Was it terribly busy?” Bertrand asked.

“Oh, unbelievably. Still, it was nice to get out. The city is enjoying the sun. I found a few books to add to your collection, Father,” she said. “On Gilnean history and dwarven blacksmithing.”

“Ah, wonderful. Thank you.”

“And for you,” she said, looking to Ophelia. “I found a novel. Like that serial you enjoy so much.”

“It’s a good book!” she insisted, blushing. She had a crush on the man in the cover picture.

“It certainly must be, considering how much you enjoy it,” Luciana said with a smile. A basket of bread rolls came out in between courses and she listened to her siblings chatter and, occasionally, bicker.

The meal consisted of blackened freshwater catfish, supposedly the King’s own favourite, on a bed of warm greens. A half-pear, stuffed with goat cheese and wrapped in thin slices of cured ham, was drizzled with a glazed honey and dark mustard sauce. Some praline pecans were dropped around it decoratively Luciana ate mostly in silence, enjoying the pear - the cooks remembered that it was one of her favourites. “Luciana,” Dania asked curiously. “Do you think the Prince will look at your proposal?”

“He will certainly look at it,” Luciana said calmly. “Because my rank is written with my name, he will see Lady Knight Luciana Amadeus, 113th Company. He’ll think of how dedicated we must be, to send our first daughter to the army. Then he’ll realize that I would be ill-suited to the court, and very well suited to the field, and he will look at more promising prospects.”

“But, there’s a chance?” Dania asked.

“Ah...” Luciana looked at her father, who shook his head slightly. “Well, I suppose there’s always a chance of anything happening, really. You never know.”

“I had a dream,” Dania said. “I think it would be lovely. Your crown, I mean.”

“Now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves!” Bertrand interrupted. “I certainly wouldn’t mind having a daughter of mine on a throne, but it doesn’t have to be the throne of Stormwind.”

“I’ll make you a crown!” Ophelia offered. “We’re studying costumes,” she said proudly. “I think I’m getting pretty good with resin.”

“I can’t wait,” Luciana said. When the last course, a bit of venison with berry jam, was finished, Luciana pulled her bag into her lap. “Who wants to see what I have for you?” she sang.

“You’re making us look bad,” Desmond complained. “We’re supposed to be the oldest!”

“And the bestest,” Frederic added. “I think you’re the bestest.”

“That’s not a word, dear,” Mannarie said with a fond smile. “They’re the best, though.”

“Yeah.”

Smiling, Luciana started to remove the treats from her bag. “Well, I only visit every so often,” she said. “So, the way I see it, I need to make up for it a little bit. You know, spoil you all so you don’t forget me.”

“We’d never!” Ophelia said. “Would we, Frederic?”

“Nuh-uh!” He shook his head. “We’d never.”

“Still, it’s a nice thing to do.” She handed out the treats - a pecan pie to be shared between her two sisters, a sugar-dusted apple turnover for Frederic, a salted caramel tart for Bannister, and a small jar of sugared nuts for Desmond.

“Oh, well,” Desmond said, eagerly accepting his gift. “If this is what we get when you visit once a year, maybe you should wait two years next time!”

“No, don’t do that,” Bannister said. “Come more often, and bring these again.”

Desert was a relaxed affair, and afterward Luciana and Desmond demonstrated proper dueling etiquette to Ophelia. Then, she sparred with Bannister, showing the difference between a duel and a fight. And then Frederic jumped in with a toy foam sword, bright pink, and roared that he was the mightiest and most powerful warrior of Stormwind, and so of course he bested both of his siblings in fair combat.

“Avenge me... Luciana,” Bannister gasped, falling to the ground and clutching his chest. “I have fallen to the mighty Sir Frederic!”

“I cannot!” she cried, falling to her knees. “For he has also bested me! Truly,” she gasped, falling to her side and rolling over. She waved her hand dramatically in the air. “Truly,” she repeated. “He is the best and most mighty of warriors that Stormwind has to offer! It is an honour to fall to the blade of mighty Sir Frederic!”

“Ha-ha! I have beaten you!” Frederic declared, putting his tiny foot on Bannister’s stomach. Frogo, his favourite pug, ran across the yard with a tug-o-war rope in his squashed maw, and Frederic went to chase him. He stepped on Bannister’s stomach as he went, making the eldest of them grunt and sit up.

“Ow,” he said plaintively. “That hurt.”

“If that’s the worst you get you’ll be a lucky man,” Desmond said with a smile, pulling his brother to his feet. “Lucy, you want a hand?”

“No, thanks. I’ll just stay here. It’s lovely under the tree.”

“I bet. You’ll get grass in your hair.”

“Oh!” Luciana sat up. “I just remembered. Ophelia, do you want your book?”

“Oh, yes please!”

Luciana went and fetched the book, bringing the drafted proposal with her to the gardens. “Here you are,” she said, handing over the battered novel.

“It sounds good,” Ophelia said, and was immediately lost in the pages. Dania was soon occupying Frederic, telling him about the better features of the pug breed. Desmond and Bannister, ever looking to keep their chevalier skills sharp, were once again practice dueling.

Luciana read through the proposal carefully, making mental notes on what to add or take away. When she was finished, she stood, waving to Dania who looked up to watch her go. “I’ll see you all in a bit,” Luciana promised. “I just need to go speak with Father a short while.”

“Okay,” Dania said.

Her father was in his study again, looking over reports from their importing business with the dwarves. Much of the warm clothing the people of Stormwind depended on for much of the year came from the rams of Ironforge, and Amadeus was one of their biggest business partners. “Ah, Luciana,” he said, removing his reading glasses. “You’ve read it?”

“Yes. I think we should add that I am very dedicated to the Army. It would sound wonderful, but also highlight that I am well-suited to combat, rather than the court.” She pointed out where they could add it and Bertrand made a quick note. “Also, perhaps mention that I have been training with the sword since I was ten, rather than simply saying I joined the Academy at thirteen.” He made another note, obviously agreeing as he did not vocalize otherwise. “And one more. Here, we could mention that I show great interest in the other peoples of the Alliance. It doesn’t have much to do with the proposal, but it would mark that our House is more than willing to work alongside our more... exotic allies.”

“Ah, yes. The draenei. You mentioned him in a letter. Tell me about him?” Bertrand asked. Luciana sat in the chair in front of his desk as he put the proposal aside for the moment. “Aeon?” he asked.

“Enaeon. He is a draenei paladin,” she said. “I didn’t mention in the letter why we welcomed him so easily. The bruises you see here are the remnant of a much worse injury. The mine skirmish with the orcs ended with three of my men, and me, heavily injured. Enaeon proved his worth with this, and by keeping us up through the night.”

“Were you in any danger of dying?” Bertrand asked seriously.

“No, though there may have been complications without immediate medical aid. Having Enaeon there saved us a lot of grief. He’s a good man,” she said. “Most of our people still hold suspicions and superstitions about the draenei, the elves, the worgen. Even the pandaren, so friendly and welcoming, seem to have some hidden agenda only the peasants are aware of. I think it’s time to change that. Obviously others do, as well. Many squadrons in the First Legion have been given draenei healers or worgen scouts, to prove to us on the battlefront that they are indispensable allies.”

“And you agree with this,” Bertrand asked.

“Yes.” She nodded once, firmly. “Enaeon proved himself, and continues to do so. His ilk does the same. They are creatures of the Light. How can we doubt ones so blessed?”

“True enough. They are strange,” he added. “But I see your point. And I’ll let you know that I agree with it. There’s not much that can be done about the peasants and their views, but having the draenei fight with their warriors, their siblings and cousins, certainly will not harm the cause.”

“Thank you, Father.” She nodded and stood. “I’ll leave you to your work.”

“Go relax, Luciana. Light knows you need it. I don’t know how you stand being in mud all the time,” he grumbled.

Dinner came in what felt like a short time, but Frederic let them all know it was time to eat because he was hungry, and they filed into the dining room.

“So glad you could join us on time,” Mannarie said with a nice smile to Luciana, who returned it.

“Me, too. I was able to get my shirt on alone past my injured shoulder this time.” She gestured loosely with her left arm to illustrate the purple bruises lining it.

“Not at the dinner table,” Mannarie said.

“No injuries at the dinner table?” Luciana muttered as dishes were brought out. Bannister heard her, and she sighed at his warning look. “I know,” she whispered to him under guise of asking for the salt. He passed it to her and she applied it liberally to her beef steak. Salt was in rare supply when one was in a battleground, and she relished it with dinner.

Most of the meal was quiet and uneventful. When the desert was brought out, fresh cream with oat fritters and sliced green apples, Mannarie turned to Luciana.  
“I know you didn’t want me to, but I assure you it was no difficulty,” she started, and Luciana immediately straightened in her seat, eyes trained on her mother. Bannister watched them warily, setting down a fork full of cream and oats. “I sent word to your commander. Your, ah, what was it?”

“Knight Champion,” Luciana said tersely. “What did you do, Mother?” she demanded in a growl. Bannister put his hand on hers, warning her to keep calm lest she frighten their siblings.

“I sent word,” Mannarie said simply, “that you are to be released of your duties. Discharged, I believe is the term? Yes, honourably discharged. So that you may return to your proper duties here. Your time there will look most excellent on a-”

Luciana stood abruptly, knocking her chair back. Her breath felt heavy in her chest as she breathed carefully, in and out, in and out. Bannister stood with her, muttering to keep the leash tight. He was not a warrior, but he knew from his correspondence with her how their fury could overflow, break free, make them rage and, on rare and frightening occasions, make them berserk. “You...” Luciana started, but she couldn’t continue without shouting, so she kept breathing. In and out, in and out.

“Mother, you shouldn’t have done that,” Desmond sighed. “You really, really should not have done that! What kind of place do you think you hold in her life now?”

“I am her mother!”

“You are nothing to me,” Luciana snarled. The edge of the table groaned under her grip. It was an old, solid piece of wood, but she was angry and there were several inches between two of the legs and the floor. “You are not my mother. You are not my family. You are nothing. I will not be your daughter while you remain so blinded by arrogance and greed.” She released the table, and when it fell back onto the floor all of the dishes and cutlery jumped and clattered. “My life is not yours,” she growled, eyes focused and unblinking. “I am not your toy.”

She turned on her heel and marched from the dining hall. Mannarie made to chase, but Bertrand stood and pointed at her. “Not another word!” he ordered. “You’ve done enough to her. Let it go.”

Luciana returned to her room, but her anger would not abate. Instead, she changed clothes, removing her doeskin leggings and embroidered tunic and dressing in supportive leather practice armour. She took the back way out of the manor, walking quickly to the Old Town. She didn’t want to be stopped, did not want to speak to anyone. No one but her mother could make her so angry. She was so unbelievably deaf to everything Luciana had ever told her.

The Old Town was home to the city’s Warrior's Conclave, and also the Command Center for its army. SI:7 had its headquarters there, as well. The sparring area was peppered with practicing warriors and rogues, and someone practicing bugle calls. When the warriors spotted Luciana coming in like a dark storm cloud, they immediately made room. An older warrior, about thirty years of age, tossed her a dulled practice sword and limb weights. Without a word she huffed at him and put them on. Twenty pounds on each limb was standard procedure for most advanced warriors and when she was ready, he backed into a sparring ring. She followed, eyes alight and face set in a scowl.

“We’ll go as long as I can last,” he said. “I’ve been here for a couple of hours already. I’m sure there are plenty more here who could fight with you.” He, as all warriors did, knew the power of fury. It could drive you to fight, to go beyond what limits a mortal body could handle, but it could also destroy everyone and everything around you. Luciana had quickly learned the value of surrounding herself with warriors like herself, who intrinsically understood the nature of a warrior’s fury.

So, when she abandoned her sword halfway through the fight and grappled him, he responded in kind. When she, snarling and roaring, proved too angry for one man, they were joined by two others who practiced parrying hand-to-hand blows while she let out her fury.

When it abated enough for her to take a break, she was steaming under the sun, having already pulled off her shirt long ago. It left her in her bandages, and several people eyed her bruised side with interest. “Orc skirmish,” she growled. “Arathi.” She drank an entire water skin, rinsed off her face, tied her sweat-matted hair back, and picked up two practice zweihanders. “Let’s go!” she snarled, and was joined by a fresh warrior in the ring.

Her fury kept her fighting long past her stopping point, and she knew she’d regret it the next day if she didn’t see a healer. Still, when she was calm, and her heart beat without the echo of a rabid, snarling berserker, she fell onto a bench in the shade.

“You fight like a rabid wolf,” one warrior praised, offering her a bucket of water from the well. She dumped it over her head and shook it like a dog, sending water and sweat every which way.

“Thanks,” Luciana said.

“What got to you? Me, it’s always the damn memories.”

“Mother,” Luciana panted. “Fucking fool... who thinks I’m her... second chance.”

“Yeah, I know the type.” The woman offered a fresh bucket of water. “I was fighting all morning. Now? I’m watching. You can pick up all sorts of things here. But I’ve never seen someone fight like you. Warrior one moment, monk the next, and then a bit of rogue?”

“I’ve been in the Arathi Basin for two years,” she said, regaining her breath slowly. “I’ve picked things up. From allies and enemies alike. You do it to survive. When you get better, you live longer.”

“Praise to that,” the woman said. “Name’s Violet.”

“Luciana.” They shook hands, and Violet stood. 

“I’m gonna go make sure no one needs a priest to read them their rites,” she said. “You never know around here. Nice fighting.”

“Thanks.”

Luciana washed her with more water from the well by simply dumping a few buckets worth over her head and scrubbing her arms and torso with a clean scrap of cloth. When the sun had mostly finished drying her off, she pulled her leather jerkin back on and waved to the people she had fought with. “Nice meeting you!” she called. 

“You comin’ back soon? I didn’t get my chance!” one man said.

“Maybe soon. Depends on how the battle at the Basin goes.”

“Good luck out there, soldier!”

She waved over her shoulder and walked slowly, much calmer now that she had spent her fury in a place where it was safe to do so. She passed through the Old Town, around the edging of the Trade District, and eventually returned to her family’s manor.

It was unusually quiet when she got there. Ignoring anyone she passed, she went upstairs to her room. A servant brought up writing tools at her request, and she penned a quick letter to her superior officer.

 

_To Knight Captain Leon Servol,_

_My mother, Lady Mannarie of House Amadeus, has sent a letter to you, and perhaps also to Knight Champion Lorelei Silverheart, stating that I should be honourably discharged to allow me to return to my duties at her House. This was done without my consent, and I only had knowledge of it today, April the fourteenth, in the afternoon._

_I do not agree with the request that Lady Mannarie has supposedly submitted to you, and in counter I request she be ignored. There is strife in the family and I do not wish to include details. Be assured that I will continue my duties as Knight, regardless of her wishes, until I am either dead or discharged by my superior officer._

_I apologize for any confusion she may have caused, and I thank you for your continued patience and willingness to cooperate with me on the matters we have previously discussed. I will do my part to try and prevent it from happening again._

_With regards,_

_Knight Luciana Amadeus, 113th Company_

 

She sealed it and had it sent post-haste to the postal service in the Cathedral Square, and settled into her writing chair with a tired sigh.

Something brushed up against her leg and she looked down. A mouser cat, jet black with bright green eyes, looked up at her and meowed loudly. She picked it up, and it hissed in complaint until she set it back down on her desk. And then it purred when she rubbed its head and neck gently.

“Curious beast, aren’t you,” she murmured. After a few moments, it hopped off her desk and wandered off with slow steps. It disappeared out of her open window.

Night fell while she was sitting at her desk. She had picked up an old book, rereading it without much interest. A servant knocked at her bedroom door. “My lady,” he said. “Lord Bertrand was wondering if you will be joining the rest of the family for dinner.”

“I am afraid that I will be disappointing them. If my mother is there, I will not be. I will not be worked into such a fury again by her.”

“Of course, my lady. Shall... shall I have something brought up for you?” he asked timidly.

“Yes, thank you. I hadn’t even thought of it.”

“Of course.” He smiled nervously, closing her door at her quiet request. He returned within ten minutes, a wooden tray in hand. “From the Cook,” he said. “He says he hopes you feel better. Are you ill?” To alleviate his concern, she chuckled and shook her head.

“No, not at all. Simply bruised like a banana.”

“Oh.” He chuckled nervously. “I’ll, ah, leave you to your meal.”

“Thank you.”

Her favourite roasted pear, with goat cheese and cured ham, accompanied a salmon fillet with plenty of dill and pickled capers. She enjoyed it, and as usual, it was delicious.  
When it was nearing eight o’clock, she went to the living room to see her siblings. “Luciana!” Ophelia cried, jumping to her feet and throwing herself into her sister’s arms. “I was so afraid! I thought you left without saying goodbye!”

“I wouldn’t,” Luciana promised, hugging her tightly and kissing the top of her head. “I wouldn’t dare.”

Dania hugged her as well, and she looked up to see Desmond waiting with Frederic in his lap. “He wants a story,” he complained. “I can’t tell stories!”

“Tell him about your first horse ride,” Luciana suggested with a smile.

“Oh, Light. You’re never going to forget. You’re going to be ninety-six, grey, and you won’t even remember you’re a warrior, but you’re going to remember that.”

“It was memorable,” she said. “Where is Bannister?”

“He’s waiting at the back door for you,” Dania said. Desmond looked at her oddly.

“How did you know that? He hasn’t told anyone else but me.”

Dania shrugged. “I dunno.”

“I’ll go see him. I’m sorry how this visit turned out,” Luciana said.

“It’s okay,” Ophelia said. “We’re just glad you visit all. You need to write more often!”

“I’ll do my best.”

She hugged them each and kissed the crowns of the girls’ heads, and gave Frederic a wet kiss on the forehead. She kissed Desmond on the cheek and he smiled down at her fondly. He was barely a few inches taller than her, and flouted it every chance he had. “We’ll see you again soon?” he asked. “After tomorrow, I mean.”

“I’ll try. We’ll see how it goes at the Basin. Maybe I’ll be reassigned.”

“Bring your draenei. He sounds sturdy.”

“He’s built like a brick... house,” Luciana finished, and Desmond’s eyes gleamed with mirth. He knew what she had not said. “I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

Bannister was waiting patiently at the back door, and they walked silently through the square. “I want you to know,” he said when they had already reached the Dwarven District. “That no matter what Mother does or says, no matter how bitter you feel to her or how blind she is to you, that we all love you. And we’re all very proud of you. You’re the strongest woman I know, Luciana. You stood up to your own parents, your own mother, and did what made you happy.”

“Thanks, Bann,” she sighed. “I’m tired of it, though. Why can’t she just be happy for me? I’ve found what I am. I found me. Why is that so terrible?”

“She’s afraid for you. You heard the story, of her Knight lover.”

“I’m not him. Nor am I her.”

“No, but she’s afraid of losing you to war.”

“And because of that, she lost me to her own incessant need to control,” Luciana spat. “It doesn’t matter anymore how much she loves me, how she did it for me, or because she’s worried for me. She destroyed me, and continues to try to destroy me. At what point is it enough? At what point is she no longer a mother?”

Bannister sighed heavily. “I don’t know, Lucy. Just... Be strong, be safe. Don’t put me out one sister before I’m even grey.”

“I won’t,” she promised. “I’ve got seven good soldiers, and a damn draenei. I’ll be fine.”

“I believe you.” He wrapped her in a tight hug, held her for a moment, and when he released her, he was smiling. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Get some sleep.”

“I can’t sleep alone,” she complained. “I’m too used to the barracks.”

“Find some nice thing to warm you, then!” he cackled, and she kicked at his ankles. He hopped away, still laughing, and she traveled the rest of the way through the Old Town to her inn alone.


	3. Giant's Folly

Her ship left at ten o’clock, so she hurried to the manor to say farewell at seven-thirty. She wanted to be on the boat long before it left, to regain her sea legs and maybe get some ginger for nausea. Week-long boat rides were unpleasant enough without sea sickness added to the equation.

“Lady Luciana,” the Seneschal greeted. “Lord Bertrand and your siblings await you in the gardens.”

“And my mother?” she asked in a calm voice.

“She has not joined them yet.”

“Thank you.”

He bowed at the waist as she passed. A large man wearing servant’s clothes held the leashes of three dogs. Frogo the pug, Sean the wire-haired terrier, and Penny the grey mastiff. No one knew why Frederic had named him Penny. The servant was walking them through the yard, picking up whatever mess they left. Luciana stopped the pet the dogs and nodded to the servant.

When she entered the gardens, her family waited - minus her mother, she noted with interest and mild disgust. The woman couldn’t even face her after riling her so badly.

“Father, brothers, sisters,” she greeted, holding her arms out slightly. “I’m taking ship soon, back to Arathi. I’m here to say goodbye, and see you next time.”

“It feels like you’ve been here for a few hours only,” Ophelia complained, attaching herself to Luciana’s side. The elder sister rested her tender arm over Ophelia’s shoulders, mindful of the bruising. It wasn’t as bad as it had been, but her fighting yesterday had lit what felt like hundreds of tiny fires in her muscles. Every time she moved, they burned. “I’ll miss you.”

“Come back soon,” Dania said. “Promise.”

“I promise, I’ll be back soon,” Luciana said dutifully.

“I’ve sent out the revised proposal,” Bertrand said. “I expect a reply within a week. I’ll send you a letter when I get it. Hopefully this will remind the Wrynn family of how loyal we have been, and highlight your own deeds in the army.”

“Be careful out there,” Desmond said. “I’d hate to see you come back with a robotic arm. Then you’d be so much more interesting than me!”

“No way! No one’s as interestisti... interest... ing than you!” Frederic managed.

“Interesting,” Desmond said.

“Interesting,” Frederic replied. “I know how to say it,” he said, slapping at Desmond’s knee with both hands.

“Okay, okay. You know how to say it!”

Bannister approached, holding something in his hand. “For luck,” he said, giving Luciana a worn-down coin with a rawhide cord through a hole at its center. It was an old coin, from before the First War - all of the new coins didn’t have the hole. She wondered where he found it. “I have a feeling you’re going to need it.”

“Thank you,” she said, slipping the cord over her head and tucking the coin away beneath her shirt. “But, where is Mother?”

“She has a headache,” Bertrand said simply.

“Ah. I see.” Luciana smiled coldly. “Well then. Tell her, please, that I hope she feels better soon. I’m afraid I must be off. Be good, you two,” she said to her sisters. They both giggled, linking arms. They were the troublemakers of the family, picking up where Desmond and Bannister had left off.

“We will!” they promised in unison. Maybe practiced unison.

Luciana’s ship was a large one, the Stormwind Naval Ship _Giant’s Folly_. She saw many other soldiers, returning to their duties from leave. Familiar music teased at her ears. Someone was singing a rousing rendition of _Victoria! Victoria!_ , a popular and very old bard's tale. “Hail,” a man greeted her. His voice interrupted the music and she looked up at him, one brow raised. He was out of uniform, but he spotted her parade dress with its bright blue and golden coat from the docks. “Knight...?” he prompted.

“Amadeus,” she said.

“Knight Amadeus, a pleasure. I’m Knight Barrowman. First tour?” he asked conversationally. “I’ve been out for two months already, myself.”

“Five and a half to a tour, Barrowman,” she started. “Which means I’m on my fourth.”

“Oh, really?” he asked, surprised. “You must be up for promotion, then. What company are you?”

“113, and you?”

“225,” he answered proudly. “All good Stormwind fighters. We fight alongside some of Ironforge's gunners, but there's nothing like a good Stormwind soldier at your six.”

“My new healer is a draenei,” she mused, stowing her bag securely in the hold under her assigned bed. Small and cramped in with dozens of others - just like the barracks, she thought, smiling slightly. “He’s saved my life and several of my men.”

“Is that the bruising?” he asked, gesturing to her face. “If you don’t mind, what happened?”

“Arathi Basin,” she said. “We were holding the mine entrance overnight. Orcs came in, surprised us. We fought them off, killed half. I got thrown down a mine shaft. Cracked half my ribs, broken my shoulder blade, cracked my head open. Broke a femur clean through.”

“Ow.” He grimaced in sympathy. “That must’ve been rough.”

“Yeah. Took the rest of the night for my guys to pull me out. Healer set right on me and in an hour I was up walking. Fuckin’ miracle.”

“Sounds like it. Priest?”

“Paladin,” she corrected. “Good man. Sense of humour on him, at least. You need it out there.”

“It helps.” They spent the next few hours waiting for the ship to fill up, and when it set off, Luciana watched the docks disappear. “You leaving anyone behind?” Barrowman asked.

“Just my family. You?”

“I got a gal,” he said. “Maybe. It’s tentative. Blacksmith’s assistant. She’s lovely. Got a set of arms like a dwarf!”

“I bet.”


	4. Bad News

Luciana had hardly packed her things back into her chest when she was called away. She left the barracks, her soldiers eyeing her curiously, and followed the soldier playing messenger to the command center.

“Knight Captain,” she said, snapping into a stiff salute. “You sent for me?”

He turned to her with a solemn expression. “You’ve been summoned to the court,” he said slowly. “By Wrynn’s seal.”

She felt her breath shorten, and she went through of about seventeen increasingly unlikely scenarios to explain it within the span of six seconds. “Sir?” she said after a moment.

“At ease,” he said, seeing her tense posture. She clasped her hands behind her back, settling into parade rest. “I have been given this letter,” he said, walking around his desk to hold out a thick envelope with the Wrynn family seal on it, “by one of the scariest royal messengers I’ve ever seen. It’s for you. I’ve also been sent word that for an unknown duration of time you will be occupied in the court with royal matters. I don’t know why, but I doubt you did anything wrong.”

“Sir, I... I don’t know what...” She swayed slightly on her feet and he rested a hand on her right shoulder.

“Easy, there,” he soothed. “Do you need to sit?”

“Sir,” she mumbled, collapsing into his chair. 

“Don’t worry about your mother,” he said almost casually. “I knew the moment we got that letter that it was horseshit. You’ve told me all about your situation, anyway. Don’t worry about that. Go ahead, open the letter.”

She opened it. Inside was a paper inviting her to the Royal Court, a ticket for a fast ship that would bring her directly to Stormwind, and papers stating that her family had already been notified but they awaited her return to Stormwind to further the discussions.

The first two papers, each with only a short, carefully-penned message, were directly addressed to her. Her stomach was alternating between fluttering and curling into an angry pretzel. She was nervous. She hadn’t been nervous since she had graduated from the Academy.

 

_Knight Luciana Amadeus, Lady of House Amadeus_

_We have carefully perused proposals sent to the Royal Family for the betrothal of Crown Prince Anduin Wrynn. Upon further consideration, your proposal has been accepted._

_Please note that negotiations on certain matters are necessary to continue the arrangement. At present, the agreement is temporary. Until you return to Stormwind to discuss with the Royal Court, that is His Majesty King Varian Wrynn and His Highness Crown Prince Anduin Wrynn, the betrothal will not be finalized._

_With regards_

_Seneschal of House Wrynn_

 

She let the letter flutter to the desk. Respectfully, her Knight Captain kept his eyes on the window, watching for curious passerby. She picked up the second letter.

 

_Lady Luciana,_

_I am quite pleased to be able to write to you. Your proposal was quite promising, and I am keen to meet you in person. I think we will have much to discuss, even beyond the discussions of the betrothal._

_I eagerly await your return to Stormwind. As I understand, you left only a week ago. I apologize for the amount of travelling you’ll be doing, and I hope I can make it up to you._

_With regards,_

_Prince Anduin Wrynn_

 

She let that, too, fall to the desk, and slumped back into the chair, face blank. “Knight Amadeus?” her superior officer said. “Luciana?”

“I’ve been summoned,” she murmured. “They weren’t supposed to accept it. Father said they wouldn’t even consider it. This wasn’t...” She took a deep breath, and sat up straight. She gestured to the letters. Leon reached for them.

“You want me to read them?” he asked. He had been her biggest supporter from the first day she’d joined his brigade, and she trusted him. She nodded. He read them quickly. “Well, fuck,” he said simply. “That’s a mess.”

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” she said. “I’m not suited the court. Father and I both agreed, they’d see my title and my rank and think, gee, how dedicated they must be to the Alliance to send their first daughter to war for us! And then put it aside. It was a token proposal. Everyone sent at least one, we had to... had to send at least one.” She sighed shakily. “This is a nightmare,” she muttered. “Knight Captain. I have to... send a letter back. Apologize for the confusion, refuse, I...”

“Whoa, easy.” When she tried to stand, he gently pushed her back down. “Relax, Luciana. Breath. Think. You’re a strategist. Think.” He handed her a glass of water and she drank slowly.

“I... I’m an officer,” she said slowly, thinking as he had ordered. “I’ll arrange for... for a tentative betrothal, because of my dedication to the army and to my position as Knight. I could die tomorrow, that will push them to find someone else. I’ll say that I’ve been working towards a career in the army since I was thirteen, and I didn’t want to abandon it so soon. They’ll understand. I hope. A tentative betrothal that will leave room for other proposals to be considered. When they realize how dedicated I am to the army, they’ll start to look for a proper Lady of the court. They’ll find one, I’m sure. They’ll apologize, I’ll thank them for the consideration. It is an honour to be considered for the court, I’m glad you found someone so well suited to the position. I will continue to serve Stormwind faithfully from the frontlines.”

“And there it is,” Leon said, grinning. “That’s why you’re my most promising Knight. C’mon, let’s get you something stiffer.”

When she had a bit of whiskey in her, and some food, she returned to the barracks with her letter safely hidden under her breastplate. “You okay, Luce?” Devon asked. Her scout, he was fast on his feet, lithe, quiet, and a total shit talker. Most of the time. Now, he was crouching next to where she sat on her bed. He stared up at her, concerned. “Hey,” he said, nudging her knee. “Talk to me Luce. What’s going on in that fat brain of yours?”

“Family matters,” she said. “I can’t discuss it. Just... I just need a moment. I’m returning to Stormwind again. For family matters.”

“Ah, damn nobles. Can’t get away from it, eh?” he asked. Enaeon approached at a gesture from Devon. The draenei had a bed built specifically for his heavy frame.

“Luciana,” he rumbled, putting a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Are you unwell? Do your injuries bother you?” She felt Light wash down her side, soothing the ache.

“Thanks,” she said numbly. “No. Family matters, can’t talk about it.” She sighed. “I need to lie down for a minute.”

“We’ll keep it down to a dull roar,” Devon promised, patting her knee and standing smoothly. Enaeon gave her a concerned look, his brow furrowing under his impressive forehead crest, but left her alone.

She tried not to think, but quickly abandoned that foolish plan and instead thought of anything and everything but the summons she had received.

 

_I am quite pleased to be able to write to you._

_Your proposal was quite promising._

_I am keen to meet you in person._

_I hope I can make it up to you._

 

“I’m fucked,” she whispered. “So, so, fucked.”


	5. An Agreement

The boat ride lasted four days. The Darnassian ship was small, fast, and sailed like a breeze over the water. It was aptly named _The Tiderunner_.

The city was exactly the same as she had left it. Somehow, it seemed quieter, though it may have been the ringing in her ears.

Her father greeted her at the docks. He was astride his proud Stormwind charger, a dappled grey mare. He handed her reins to a chocolate brown Charger, which she mounted in silence.

“I don’t know what to say,” he said.

“We will discuss it in private.”

They went to the family manor first, where they immediately secluded themselves in Bertrand’s study with order to the guards to not let anyone pass unless they were from the Royal Court.

“We will arrange for a tentative betrothal,” she said quietly. “As I am dedicated to my career in the army, which I started at thirteen, I am in danger of dying before I can be married to the Prince.” She was proud of how even her voice was. “This will leave room for them to continue searching for proposals, and one more suited to the court. They will find someone, I’m sure, and they will apologize and we will thank them for the honour of being considered. And we will move on.”

“You’ve thought about this,” Bertrand said.

“I’ve thought of nothing else for four days,” she said calmly.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think this would... I’m sure there’s a reason. Perhaps it’s a stalling strategy.” They both knew it wasn’t.

“Perhaps. Either way, we will arrange for a tentative agreement.”

“I’ll take care of that. My sister is the most cunning woman in the court. Your Aunt Talia will help.”

“Thank you. I need to lie down for a moment. Have someone fetch me in twenty minutes.”

“I’ll send for Talia.”

She nodded, and paced calmly down the hall and up the stairs to her bedroom. She did not encounter any of her siblings. She wondered if Bannister was distracting them.

Twenty minutes passed too quickly. Her father told her that Talia would meet them at the Keep. She followed him to the stables and mounted without even seeing the horse.

The guards allowed them passage with bowed heads. They left their mounts at the royal stables and climbed the mountain of stairs to the Keep. Luciana could hear a string quartet playing somewhere inside, unapologetic and bright. The Seneschal was waiting at the top.

“Greetings, Lord Bertrand Amadeus and Lady Knight Amadeus,” he said, using her preferred title with a nod to her. “Lady Talia awaits you inside. Shall I show you to the meeting room?”

“Yes, thank you.” Bertrand spoke. Silently, Luciana checked her posture. Straight back, shoulders down, head high, eyes wide and watching but calm, with slow blinks. Relaxed steps, a half-pace behind her father and to the right. She followed perfectly in step, barely seeing anything or anyone around them. She was in her parade uniform, her ceremonial clothes that stated quite clearly that she was a Knight of the 113th Company. 

Talia, her aunt whom she had not seen in two years, was sitting at one end of the long wooden table. The seats to either side of her were empty. She rose gracefully to greet them as they approached. Her father updated her on the plan, and she gave words of support to Luciana.

“Don’t worry about a thing, love,” Talia said. “I’ll take care of it all. I know how to play the Game.”

“Thank you,” Luciana said, falling into parade rest to the right side of her chair.

The room filled with people. The Seneschal announced each as they entered. Two courtiers who would speak on behalf of the royal family. Three witnesses of sound body, mind, and heart. One court scribe, a cheerful gnome with a mechanostrider fitted with a typewriter.

And the King. 

Her eyes settled on him, as anyone’s would. He seemed to fill the room, his sharp eyes taking in everything with a single sweep. He was a warrior, and she recognized it, the tamed fury that roiled in his gut and spread through the room as an oppressive force. She recognized it, and fought down the beast in her own chest that wanted to rise to the challenge. She took a deep breath, quietly, and let it out slowly. She relaxed.

“His Majesty King Varian Wrynn,” the Seneschal announced. Unnecessarily. The King’s gaze settled on Luciana for a moment. She felt as though he saw all that was valuable in her and found her lacking. He did not speak, instead taking his place at the head of the table.

“The Royal Court is in session,” the King said. His voice was clear as a bell despite years of abuse. “Today we regard the matter of the betrothal of my son,” he said, regarding them all carefully, “Crown Prince Anduin Wrynn, to Lady Knight Luciana of the Noble House of Amadeus.” He listed all the names of those who were present. Once again, his gaze settled on Luciana. “We will reach an agreement between the two parties on the specifics of the betrothal. We will speak for three hours, break for thirty minutes during which time a short meal will be provided in a separate chamber to your left.” He gestured. He wasn’t even in his armour and the gesture was intimidating. “And then we will rejoin and finalize the procedures. All are in agreement?”

Everyone said yes, nodding. He hadn’t phrased it like a question and likely it wasn’t one.

“Then, we will begin.”

Everyone sat, and Luciana took her seat with practiced, smooth movements. She didn’t have the comportment of a noble, or at least one she’d be able to use properly, but she did have that of an officer and it paid off. She earned several glances of discreet approval from the politicians involved.

Her aunt had a silver tongue. She wove her way through arguments like a snake through tall grass and before they knew it, the other party was outmanoeuvred and Luciana’s plan of attack came to fruition in the form of an outline of an agreement that was favourable to them and their goals. Throughout the discussion, the King was silent. His gaze roved from person to person, and each time it rested on Luciana for a moment, she met it evenly, taking on the role of Knight to a superior officer and watching attentively as though awaiting orders. It was the only way she knew to hide the roiling nerves in her stomach.

Finally, they broke for luncheon. “Luciana?” Talia asked, pulling her to a secluded corner, away from the turntable. Soft music echoed out of its horn, not enough to mask their words. There were some eyes on them, but their private meeting was only to be expected. “How are you feeling?”

“A little off, to be completely honest,” she murmured in response. “I’m quite pleased with how things are going. You’re very skilled at talking circles, Aunt.”

“I know. It’s a gift.” She smiled. “And you? You’re the one who came up with the idea of a tentative betrothal. This plan is yours as much as it is mine.”

“Ah, but it’s your courtly skills that brought us to this point,” Luciana said, engaging in the familiar discourse. She raised her voice to a stage whisper. People would eavesdrop - might as well let them hear the right things. “I’m ever thankful you’re an Amadeus, Aunt. I’d hate to face you in any discussion. You could convince someone the sky is orange.”

“I might try that sometime,” Talia said, smiling. “When did you last eat?”

“Hm. That would be, I believe, before I disembarked from _The Tiderunner_.”

“Oh, you must be famished.”

“It wouldn’t be particularly polite to jump up in the middle of a courtly debate to fetch some buttered lobster, though it would make for an interesting story.”

Talia tittered, holding a hand over her mouth. Now came the second part of their plan - showing just how clever Luciana could be through humour. She would jump around potential insults and smile her way through a den of lions. Just like a minefield. If successful, she would leave everyone with the distinct impression that she was clever, intelligent, cunning, and generous. Enough so that she didn’t have the need to insult someone to gain favour with another.

She bandied words with the two courtiers responsible for representing the Royal House. Then, she moved to the gnome in a typewriter-mechanostrider. “Quite the machine you have,” she opened, standing in front of the gnome and slightly to the side. Luciana was tall compared to the gnome, even without considering her extra height, and she knew it sometimes made people uneasy. So, she stood a bit off to the side and leaned back to give the gnome space, to make her feel more at ease. It worked, if her sudden friendliness and frenzied explanation and demonstrations of the machine’s capabilities were anything to go by. “Yes, I recognize the chassis model,” Luciana said, looking at the leg joints. “A third generation Sparkenheimer, but heavily modified. Your work?”

“Oh, yes! The baby’s all mine,” she said. “Do you like it?”

“It looks incredible. The rotation on the neck is unbelievable. I’ve seen plenty of gnomish gearworks - I’ve spent the past two years in the Arathi Basin, you see, and the wonders our engineers come up with have greatly aided our efforts. But the work you did on the neck, here...” She pointed out the joints responsible for rotating the head, “this is fantastic work.”

“Well, thanks!” The gnome said. “I didn’t know humans were so interested in it!”

“I enjoy learning,” Luciana said simply. “Lightnie, was it? Lightnie Gearmash?”

“Yep, that’s me!”

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Lightnie. I will enjoy seeing what great works you will create.”

“Thanks, you too! Well, I mean, not create, but I’m sure you’ll be an amazing commander one day!”

“That is my objective,” Luciana smiled. “Can I get you something from the table while I’m over there?”

“Oh, more of those bacon things, please!”

“Coming right up.” Luciana smiled fleetingly. She retrieved a handful of the bacon wrapped broccoli heads on a small plate for Lightnie. 

The gnome thanked her brightly and dug in. “Writing all of this boring stuff out is hungry work!” she declared.

While she was occupied with her food, Luciana made to return to her father’s side. She saw the King moving to intercept her and turned graciously to face him as he approached. “Your Majesty,” she said, bowing her head in respect.

“Lady Knight. Tell me something.”

“Of course.”

“You joined the Military Academy when you were thirteen?”

“I did.”

“And you graduated at sixteen, becoming an Officer Cadet.”

“Yes, Sire.”

“And you’re nearing twenty now, having spent the last two years in the Arathi Basin.”

“That is correct.”

“You’re nearing the promotion point for Lieutenant,” he mused. “Have you spoken to your superior as of yet?”

“I have not,” she said, shaking her head slowly. “I fear that knowing I was at least considered for a betrothal to the Prince will change the things in motion around me. I would actually prefer if he had not heard of it - but it could not be helped.”

“Why is that?” the King asked.

“I do not want to be promoted out of favouritism - or even in hopes of favouritism,” she said. “Giving me a position that I am not yet able to fill would cause undue chaos, preventable deaths and untold losses that could easily be avoided. I would not lose good men and women of the Alliance to over-eagerness or thoughtless promotion.”

The King watched her as she spoke. She felt his gaze rove over her face and her posture, taking in any hint of falsehood. There were none, as she spoke how she truly felt on the matter. If he picked up on anything, it was the nerves that still boiled in her gut.

“It could be arranged that the betrothal is coded as a standard procedure stalling mechanism, rather than a first choice,” he said slowly. “If you truly fear being promoted past your capabilities, it would not take much effort to show the betrothal as a loose arrangement, easily broken if someone more suitable was found.”

“I think that would serve its purpose in that regard, Sire,” she answered. She could feel that he was playing her in some obscure Game, but she couldn’t tell what his goal was. But, he was willing to play along with hers for the moment and that would have to do. “And if someone more suitable was to be found, I would understand. I myself am currently solely dedicated to my career in the Imperial Armed Forces. If someone could be found who was dedicated to the Royal Court and its proceedings...” she trailed off, with a meaningful look.

“Understood, Lady Knight,” the King said quietly. “And I do believe our time in here is nearing an end. Seneschal?”

“Your Majesty. If everyone present for the discussion of the betrothal would please gather in the meeting room, we will continue the proceedings.” There were only people involved in the discussion present, but the Seneschal inspected each as they passed through the doorway.

Having planted the appropriate seeds in the thoughts of the people involved, Luciana fell silent in her seat, watching each speaker with curiosity, openness, and intent. She made sure to blink evenly and often, and tilt her shoulders ever so slightly towards each speaker in turn. She would appear too open, too honest, and that would play in her favour. It was much easier to win a victory when the foe underestimated one’s abilities.

Finally, an agreement was signed. The courtiers signed first, and then Luciana and Talia, and then Bertrand and the King as parents of the involved parties, and then the witnesses. Finally, the Seneschal signed off with a flourish to complete the day’s proceedings. Lightnie used her typewriter machine to print off more copies, and those, too, were signed.

Finally, they were released. Luciana felt mostly numb by that point. She made to follow Talia out of the room, as had been expected, but the King stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. It felt heavy.

“Sire?” she asked, looking up at him and falling automatically into parade rest. He was smiling slightly.

“I know you must be tired,” he said quietly. His beast, his fury, was not so active as it had been in the room. “But Anduin is eager to meet you. He was the one to make the choice, you know.”

“I was not aware,” she said. “I did receive his letter. Do you know where he is at present?”

“If your aunt doesn’t mind, I’ll show you.” As spokesperson for Luciana, Talia still had full rights to take her straight from the Keep. With a minute nod, Luciana told her she didn’t mind, and Talia waved her away.

“Please, feel free,” Talia said. “The agreement has been signed.”

“That it has.” The King gestured for Luciana to walk down an adjacent hallway. “Anduin is currently reviewing documents from his tutors,” the King explained. “But he won’t mind at all if we interrupt.”

“If you’re sure. I could come back another day.”

“It’s no trouble,” the King said.

She followed dutifully with straight strides, like she had been trained when walking with a superior officer. She was willing to bet he noticed. The door he stopped before was unremarkable, likely on purpose to confuse any would-be assassins. It seemed to be a spare office rather than a room that actually belonged to the Prince. The King knocked, calling, “Anduin, the Lady Knight is here to see you.”

“Come in!” Anduin’s voice had the same clearness that his father’s voice boasted, but it was more youthful, light. Luciana recalled that he was nearly two years her junior. He was probably quite mature, being a prince, and he had spent time in Onyxia’s court, the foul beast using him as a boy-king puppet to her own ends.

Varian made to open the door, resting his hand on the handle. “I trust you will behave?” he asked, and Luciana could have sworn she saw a twinkle of merriment in his eyes.

“Of course, Sire,” she said. He opened the door and held it wide for her. She noticed immediately the quiet Stormwind Imperial Symphony from some unseen music player.

“Go on. I’ll leave you two be.” She entered, and the door shut behind her. She had to fight not to jump out of her skin at the abrupt noise.

There was a brief moment of near-silence when only the music could be heard. “You must be Luciana?” Anduin asked, recovering himself and approaching from his desk. His blue eyes were wide, curious, his blonde hair framing a handsome, dark face. “It’s good to meet you.”

“And you, Prince.” She bowed her head. “It is an honour to be considered, let alone betrothed.”

“I read through your proposal, along with at least a thousand others,” he said, laughter in his voice. “Would you like to sit?” There were two chairs, comfortable and relaxed, sitting opposite each other before the windows.

“Certainly.” She allowed him to take his seat first, choosing his preferred chair.

“I read through them all,” he continued, settling comfortably into his seat. She was still quite tense, but managed to appear at least semi-relaxed. “The first time I read through yours, your rank and history in the Academy stood out. It was only on the second or third round of reading that I became interested. You have a draenei healer in your squadron?” he asked. “Would you tell me about him?”

“Enaeon,” Luciana supplied. “He’s typical size for a draenei male. He insists he’s about average, but when we’re standing next to him he still seems unusually tall and broad. He is a paladin healer, has a great sense of humour. He gets along well with the rest of my soldiers.”

“He immediately fit in?” Anduin asked, probing.

“Our first week with him, we were ordered to hold the entrance to the gold mines of the Arathi Basin overnight until reinforcements could arrive. We did, but there was a skirmish with a scout party of orcs. I was tossed down a mineshaft. It was thanks to his efforts that I am still alive, and able to walk unaided.”

“That must have been painful,” he said, grimacing slightly. “I imagine that his healing left a good impression on you, though.”

“It did. He performed what seems like a miracle. I was able to walk within an hour.”

“The Light can do incredible things,” Anduin said. “But, enough about that. Tell me about yourself?”

“What would you like to hear?”

“Anything!” he said, smiling brightly. “Anything you want to talk about.”

She thought for a moment. “I have five siblings,” she offered, and his eyes seemed to pop open.

“You’re lucky! I wish I had even one sibling.”

“Sometimes I don’t feel so lucky,” she grumbled, and he laughed openly. His shoulders, already broadening into a shape that so resembled that of his father’s frame, shook with his mirth. “The youngest is Frederic, at nine. He’s the baby of the family, but we all adore him. I’m sure he knows he’s got us all wrapped around his finger. We have family dogs and we do breed various lines, but he has his own, a pug he named Frogo. None of us are sure what Frogo actually means.”

“Perhaps it’s simply from his imaginings?” Anduin suggested. “Or, perhaps a play on ‘frog’?”

“Perhaps. Dania is twelve, and Ophelia is thirteen. They’re the troublemakers of the family, always where they shouldn’t be. If you find that all of the furniture in your chambers has been moved three inches east, they will swear to the Light it wasn’t them. But they’ll be grinning. Dania enjoys maths, and is absolutely brilliant with them. One day she’ll make a fine businesswoman. Ophelia has recently discovered drama and theatre. She’s naturally becoming more dramatic and theatrical the more she reads of it.”

“She’s a natural, then,” Anduin said. His presence was completely different from that of his father. Light, airy, like a fine cooling mist with the sun shining through it.

“Mm. That remains to be seen. Still, it makes her happy. I am nineteen, first daughter of the House. I joined the Military Academy at thirteen, and decided I would make it my career. I was a cadet at sixteen, and currently am a Knight in charge of my own squadron. Seven fierce and loyal men, a scout who runs at the mouth and a draenei built like a brick tower. He’s the healer,” she said lightly. Anduin chuckled. “I have two more brothers. Desmond, who is twenty-four, and Bannister, a year older. They’re inseparable, and became chevaliers together. You could say it was watching them practice that inspired me to first take up the sword.”

“It sounds wonderful,” Anduin said, a bit wistfully. “Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to have a larger family, but then I think of all the grey hairs I must be giving Father, and realize that maybe it isn’t such a good idea.”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” she said. “The King is a strong man.”

“You can relax, you know,” Anduin said, eyeing her keenly. Too keenly, she felt. “The agreement is already signed.”

“I am a Knight,” she said. “And you are the Prince. Regardless of a betrothal agreement, I will show you the proper respect our stations demand.”

“Alright.” He stood. “Then, how about this? While we’re alone, like right now, you can address me as Anduin. If we’re to one day be married, I’d like us to be familiar with each other. And, if it does not come to pass, then at least I will someday soon have a friend and loyal Grand Marshal.”

She blinked at him. “Your Highness. If that’s what you want.”

“It is. If you’re comfortable with it,” he added.

“I... will try?”

“Good enough. Come! I’ll show you around the Keep. You’ve seen the more public areas, I imagine. I’ll show you the living area and the kitchens.”

He was almost too eager to show her the inner workings of the Keep. If this had been a scheme of her own making he’d be giving everything away. She still felt numb, but managed to pay attention and respond politely to queries or statements. 

When she left the Keep, she felt eyes on her. The announcement had been made. She kept her chin up, her eyes open and all-seeing but relaxed, and her shoulders back. She walked with a calm, assured stride through the districts. She was a Knight, and she’d be damned if she wasn’t going to act like one.

She reached the manor on foot, removing her coat and taking back roads. Her entire family turned out to greet her, along with the servants, the Seneschal, and the guards.

“We all heard!” Mannarie said, stepping forward. She stopped before actually touching Luciana. The Knight had not forgotten, and not yet forgiven, how she had acted not two weeks prior. Her gaze on her mother was cold and hard. “Congratulations,” she said lamely.

“Thanks.” Her voice was dry. It was obvious that Mannarie didn’t know or care that the betrothal wasn’t at all what she wanted.

“Luciana?” Bannister stepped forward, and guided her away from the crowds. “This isn’t what you wanted.”

“No. But now I have to deal with it.”

“Father should have never sent it.”

“He couldn’t have seen this coming, Bann.”

“Still. How are you holding up?”

“I feel a bit numb. I’m... in shock. I...” Her steps faltered but only for a moment. “I’m betrothed to the Prince. The King’s son. Oh, Light.” She had, for some Light-forsaken reason, agreed to marry the beloved son of the most dangerous warrior she’d ever encountered, and she knew he was before even fighting him. Just his gaze was enough for her to know.

“You’ll be fine. It’s a tentative betrothal, no?” he asked. “They’ll find someone better suited to the court and you’ll be free. With a bit of fame, I bet. The things you’ve brought this House are only a precursors. I bet one day you’ll be famous. More than now, anyway.”

“Shut up. I want to sleep. I haven’t slept in three days. I didn’t eat all the way over here.”

“It took you four days to take ship here!” he exclaimed. “You didn’t eat at all?”

“I ate a bit at the Keep, during the interim in the discussions. I’m tired, Bann,” she whined, breaking out of her Knight training for a moment. “I want to go to bed!”

“Then go,” he laughed. “I’ll hold off the family for a bit.”

“Thanks.” She hugged him around the waist with one arm. “You’re the best.”

“You’re damn right I am.”


	6. Going Back to Basic

She woke with the sun and spent an hour stretching and then running around the interior of the estate walls. She cleaned up, and joined her family for breakfast. “We can’t tarry,” Bertrand said. “We’re expected at the Keep to help write up announcements and posters for the Districts and the Houses.”

“Alright,” Luciana said evenly. “Do we know what they’ll say?”

“The gnome-”

“Lightnie,” Luciana interrupted.

“Yes. Lightnie,” her father stressed with a smile. “Has a... ah, prototype. Her word for it. We’ll just go over it, make some adjustments, and send it off to the town criers. They’ll also start writing out encoded messages to our allies in Ironforge and beyond.”

“Understood.”

“How do you feel?” Bannister asked.

“Not much at all like I’m engaged,” she said blandly. “Could you pass the jam?”

Breakfast was a quick affair for Bertrand and Luciana. They met up with Talia, once again called upon to reinforce their courtly voice, and they walked to the Keep. They allowed everyone to see the magnificent Knight, and two scions of her House, who was betrothed to their Prince.

“113th!” someone shouted, raising their fist. “113th!”

“Knight Amadeus!”

She waved only once and then ignored them, but placed a careful and fond smile on her face until they reached the relative safety of the Keep. Courtiers and politicians were dangerous, but crowds were fickle and could easily turn into riots.

The same string quartet was playing a different sort of music. She silently followed along, recognizing a set of notes here and there. “Lady Knight, Lady and Lord Amadeus,” the Seneschal greeted them. “Please, come with me. A room has been prepared.”

They followed. The King, one of his courtiers, and Lightnie waited. “I could add pictures!” the gnome squeaked.

“Of what?” the King asked. “Flowers?”

“How complex can you manage?” Luciana asked, entering the room in front of her aunt and father.

“Oh, pretty complex!” Lightnie bragged. “I mean, I could get faces. They wouldn’t be, like, super detailed, but you can definitely tell who they are!”

“Perhaps a picture of the royal crest and the Amadeus shield, then?” Luciana suggested. “To suggest a joining of the Houses without overtly or insistently saying such with personal photos.”

“An excellent idea,” the King said. “Lightnie, do you have samples?”

“No, but I can get them!”

“I will fetch something for you,” the Seneschal said, bowing and disappearing behind the closing door.

Talia entered discussions with the courtier and the King engaged Bertrand. He was not the most aggressive of people, but he, like his sister, had a skilled silver tongue and entertained the King while Luciana and Lightnie went over the poster with occasional input from Talia and the King’s courtier. Luciana wondered why Anduin would not be present if she was - but then, she already knew the answer. The King was protecting his son while enforcing Anduin’s will on his behalf. As a healer, Anduin would not act as aggressively as the King, and so he would naturally allow his own father to speak for him.

The morning passed too slowly for Luciana’s taste, and they were released for the day at noon with a suggestion to return tomorrow for further preparations. Messages would need to be sent through secure routes to their allies all over the world.

Talia promised Luciana that she would not be required to make appearances at the courts of their allies, stating that it was a tentative betrothal, so it would be considered in very bad taste to become so involved in announcing and reinforcing it. “We can leave most of the heavy lifting to the Royal Court,” she said. “But we should at least notify our friends in other Houses, and put up several of the posters on our own grounds. And keep one, for posterity.”

“Of course,” Luciana agreed.

She spent the next week in and out of the Royal Court, hardly seeing her siblings. She made a bit of time for them on the weekend, but by Tuesday was being shipped back out to Arathi. Exhausted, strung-out, and tense, she nearly snapped a sailor’s neck when he bumped against her on a rough wave.

“Sorry, Knight,” the sailor said, going pale when he saw who he had hit.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said gruffly, waving him away. She spent the next six days sick in the belly of the ship. When they touched at the docks, she immediately went to her Knight Captain. She only had to wait a short while, not quite twenty minutes. It was made more pleasant by the turntable's brassy music.

“Knight Amadeus here to see you, sir,” a soldier on guard duty announced, and she was ushered in.

“We heard the news all the way out here,” he told her. “Your squadron’s mad as fel you didn’t tell them and I had to break up four fights between them and some poor, unlucky bastards.”

“I’ll whip them up,” she promised. “After I take something for my nausea.”

“Thought you might need it.” He handed her a vial of ginger and earthroot extract, perfect for a swift recovery from sea sickness, and soon she was giving him as much detail as she could. “So it’s a tentative betrothal,” he summarized. “Makes sense. Out here, you could die any time. Court doesn’t want to take any chances.” He smiled. “Well, it’s turning out alright. You’re getting your time in the spotlight. I’ll have to wait a while to promote you. It might seem odd, otherwise.”

“That’s fine,” she said. “I don’t want favouritism. Don’t put me in a pair of shoes I can’t fill. I don’t want to kill men with inexperience. I’d rather just use a blade.”

“Far more merciful,” he agreed, and dismissed her to her barracks for the day. “Get your squadron back under control, Knight,” he told her. “They’re chaffing at the bit under Knight Granger.” He had been given charge of her squadron while she was away though he was actually of the 114th Company. It was standard procedure, the thought being that letting a squadron be exposed to other Companies would encourage cooperation on the field.

“Understood. Sir.” She saluted sharply, turned on her heel, and left.

Her barrack was quiet when she arrived. So were her soldiers, until she entered. Her boys caused a total ruckus when they spotted her.

She gave them two minutes, and then bellowed, “Enough!” They fell into a sudden and almost worrisome silence. “I have been tentatively betrothed to Prince Anduin,” she said, her voice calm again. “Tentative because out here I could die at any time, and in the meantime they will continue to search for viable prospective women suited to the court. As for you,” she said in a low and dangerous voice. “We will continue in regular fashion. You boys have been fighting while I was away. You know what that means.”

“No, Luce!” Kain groaned.

“Come on! We were defendin’ you!” Devon tried.

“I had no part in it,” Enaeon said unnecessarily. She already knew he didn’t want to give his people a bad reputation.

“They deserved it,” Christopher threw in.

“Enough! Must I remind you that there is a set of rules to follow while you are in my barrack?” She straightened her posture. She could commiserate with them later over her fate. Right now, they needed an officer to whip them back into the fine form they’d been in before she left. “I leave for two weeks and you all fall to pieces. Pathetic,” she spat. “I expect better from my men! And I will have better! Training grounds, ten minutes! If any of you are one second late, you will run suicide laps until you’re all vomiting,” she vowed. The men scrambled for their training gear and she about-faced, leaving them to their chaos. Enaeon followed.

“May I send word of the betrothal to my people?” he asked.

“The Royal Court will send couriers to them in short order,” she said. “But, if you have someone you feel you should report this to, feel free. And mention that it is a tentative betrothal. If they are at all familiar with human politicking, they will understand what that means.”

“Yes, Sir,” he said, nodding once. She walked alone to the training grounds. Nine minutes and forty-seven seconds after she had told them to get ready, they jogged into sight in formation.

“Amadeus Squadron!” she called. “Name call! Luciana Amadeus!”

“Enaeon Lightheart.”

“Devon Hart!”

“Daniel Andersen!”

“Kain MacLode!”

“Lawrence Burns!”

“Lars Abelen!”

“George Redrun!”

“Christopher Shireman!”

Her eight soldiers stood at attention in a line in front of her. She inspected them, looking for flaws in their uniforms. Satisfied, she said, “At ease!” and they fell into parade rest. “Since you weren’t late, I’m not going to make you run suicides until you vomit. You’re only going to run them until you cry! Enaeon, step aside for this one.”

At this point, they knew they really shouldn’t complain, and instead she only received a few dirty looks. She marked their start and stop points. “Start running!” she ordered, and watched as they slowly but surely ran out of energy and started running on pure hatred of her favourite drill. “Cool down!” she cried, and relieved, they wandered off the track.  
When they were sufficiently hydrated, she lined them up again. “Roll call!” she said. “Officer.”

“Healer.”

“Scout.”

“Soldier.”

“Soldier.”

“Soldier.”

“Soldier.”

“Soldier.”

“Soldier.”

“Run formation!”

They fell into formation, four lines of two with Enaeion at the front and Devon at the back. As their specialized squadron members, they were considered the least replaceable, and while Devon could dart forward into the protection of his teammates, Enaeon wore heavy armour and was easily struck. “Ready! Start moving!”

She jogged alongside them, feeling light on her feet. She called out rhythms and speed changes, and waved to whatever other squadrons they passed by. “Sprint! Forty seconds!” she yelled, and the men took off. Enaeon, as a draenei, could run faster than his human counterparts, and easily kept pace with them. They managed to hold their formation. They returned to a jog after the forty seconds, and Luciana could feel her blood pumping hot through her veins. She smiled - she had missed this. “Fall in!” she called after another twenty minutes. “Men! Who can tell me what this course is called?”

“Hellback Mountain!” Kain answered.

“And why is it called Hellback Mountain, soldier?” Luciana asked, standing in front of him and smiling wickedly.

“Because it’s hell on the back!” he answered.

“Who wants to go first?” she asked, pacing in front of them. “Lars! Go!”

The course was set up to involve as much climbing as possible, and as much falling as possible. The falls slowly increased in height, and a lot of them had tree branches between the platforms and the ground. Her men fell regularly, but not nearly as much as the first time they’d run the course.

“Formation!” she called. They lined up as quickly as they could. “Plank!” They fell to the ground, holding their weight on their forearms and their toes. “Keep that back straight, Shireman!” She occasionally glanced at her pocket watch. When three minutes passed, she released them and they stood. “Partner up! We’re doing weighted squats. Enaeon, step out. Lawrence, you’re with me.”

She participated in most exercises, whereas Enaeon did not. Firstly because he was a healer, and you couldn’t risk injuring your healer. Secondly was that he was a draenei and naturally much stronger and heavier than his human cohorts. He did not stand idly by, instead practicing his own spells on the soldiers when they pulled a muscle or strained something.

“One! Two! Three!” she called. “Keep pace, boys!” After seventy squats, she called switch. She now held up Lawrence, squatting and standing with his height held over her head with one hand on his ribs, the other on his thigh. “Sixty-eight!” she panted. “Sixty-nine! Seventy! Form up!” She dropped Lawrence and he barely managed to land on his feet. “Enaeon!” she said, and he quickly looked over the soldiers for torn muscles.

“Nothing,” he said.

“About face! And... march!”

They marched back to the main grounds, with a two minute spring through untamed woods in the middle. “Cooldown!” she called, gulping for air. She stretched with them, jogging in short lines up and down the packed dirt, and then she lined them up. “Suicides! Go!”

They were much slower now but she kept them going until Enaeon suggested she let them stop. “Water station!” she ordered and they filed off on stiff legs to the water station.  
“You’re running them hard,” Knight Granger commented when she took her turn at the water station. “They had a fun few weeks while you were in and out. How’s that going, by the way? Heard you got engaged.”

“A very tentative agreement,” she said, taking a few draughts of cool water. “Basically, if they can’t find anyone better, I’m good enough to make an heir.”

“Oh, I see.” He smiled and nodded. “So you’re not leaving us anytime soon?”

“Fuck no. This is my life, man. You know that. You graduated with me.”

“I did, didn’t I?” He gave her shoulder a rough push and she balled up a fist in friendly warning. “Good luck with that. I heard through the vines you were supposed to be promoted soon but they’re holding that back a while longer to avoid potential backlash about favouritism.”

“That’s fine with me,” she sighed. “I’ve got my hands full with these guys right now. They got into fights and now they’re going to regret it. Feel like seeing whose men are better brawlers?”

“Ha! Good luck. I’ll see you at the rings in five.”

She returned to her men, who were lined up and waiting for her. “Alright,” she said. “Who feels like fighting another squadron? I hear you boys enjoy it. I’m hurt you didn’t tell me about it! Tell you what, you can face off against Granger’s men. You caused him no end of trouble these past few weeks. Training rings!” she called. “If I hear one complaint you’re all on latrine duty for two weeks! March!”

She marched them over to the training rings, where practice spars and fights were held between soldiers and groups. “Amadeus!” Granger called, waving her over. “So you didn’t chicken out!”

“I’m not letting you off the hook that easy,” she said with a wide smile. “Healers out?” she asked.

“Healers out. Scouts first?”

“Scouts first. Hart, you’re up!”

Devon took a moment to squat down and stretch his legs, and then jogged into the ring without a word. While he was stretching someone had set up a gnomish music player. The familiar heavy sound of _Elite Tauren Chieftain_ started to play. Already exhausted Devon lost the fight, though he went down struggling. The rest of her men were also exhausted and went down, though Kain managed to flip the hold at the last second and earned himself a victory. Enaeon and Granger’s healer, a draenei female named Nae’ne, treated their scrapes and bruises. “Water station!” the two Knights ordered.

When her men were sufficiently watered, she lined them up. “You boys are embarrassing!” she roared. “You can’t even last a few hours of training! Only Kain won his bout! You trying to show me up?” she said. “Well?!”

“No, sir!” they said in unison.

“Well then! Why did you lose?” They were silent. “Was it because you’re tired?”

“No, sir!”

“Was it because you’re hungry?”

“No, sir!”

“Do you miss your nice, comfy beds?”

“No, sir!”

“Well, then. Who wants to tell me why you lost? Devon!”

“I’m not good enough, sir!”

“Not yet you aren’t. Daniel!”

“I’m not good enough, sir!”

“Not yet you aren’t. Kain!”

She went down the line, and finally, she released them. “Hit the showers. You smell like horseshit. Barracks in twenty. March!” They about-faced and were off. She went to the officer’s quarters to shower in a more private stall, rather than the great open room the enlisted soldiers used.

She was in the barrack in fifteen minutes, toweling her hair. She fingered it absently. “Still too long,” she muttered. Soon her men were filing in on weak legs. “Hey, boys,” she called. “Take your seats. I’ve got a story to tell you.”

“Luce, you’re killing us,” Lars moaned, wiping a hand down his dark face. “I can’t feel my legs.”

“What?” Enaeon perked up, brow furrowed. “That’s worrisome.”

“It’s an expression,” Lars said.

“Oh.”

Luciana stood at the back of the barracks, crossing her arms over her chest. When her men were laid out on the floor, on their beds, or sitting on their respective chests at the foot of their cots, she spoke. “So, as I mentioned earlier, I’m in a tentative betrothal with the Prince.”

“Good on ya,” George mumbled, lifting his hand and giving her a thumbs up.

“Tentative,” she said. “Because I want to stay in the army, and I might die tomorrow. So they’re going to keep looking for a suitable match, and if they can’t find anyone, I’m good enough to marry the Prince and give him an heir.”

“Ooh,” Devon teased. “Getting it on with the Prince!”

“Devon, shut your mouth,” she said blandly. “I was supposed to be up for promotion soon, as I’ve been in Arathi for two years minus a month. However! They’re holding that back a while, because they don’t want to look like they’re favouring me. I have no problem with it and none of you will, either,” she said, sending a warning glance around the room. She sighed, and fell into parade rest. “I spent a week finalizing details on the matter in the Royal Court and let me tell you, the King is a scary motherfucker.”

“Damn straight!” Christopher barked.

“This may make me a target for assassination, so if you see something suspect, alert me or the Lieutenant, or even the Captain, immediately.”

“Aye, sir,” Devon said, saluting sharply. Several more agreements wandered around the room. “We won’t let anyone get to you.”

“Thanks. One more thing - I’ll be returning to the city more often now as the situation changes or if problems arise. The ships I’ll be taking will likely be much faster than _The Giant’s Folly_ or the army cruisers, but you’ll still be without me a week at a time, or more, unless they can get a functioning portal again. At times like that you’ll be either back with Granger, and I except full cooperation from all of you or there will be hell to pay,” she warned, “or you’ll be under direct command of the Lieutenant for drills and field runs. Again, I except full cooperation. Each of you has my name hanging over your head. You are the Amadeus Squadron and I expect you all to be the best you possibly can be at any given time. You’ve all come a long way so far. When I’m away, I want to come back hearing your temp SO praising your names. Make me proud, boys.”

“Yes, sir!” they shouted in discordant unison.

“Enaeon, if you want to send a letter back home, feel free. There’s no details I can give you that someone else wouldn’t.”

“Yes, sir,” he said.

“Now. Who’s hungry? Mess hall looked mighty empty on my way to the officer’s quarters.”


	7. The Game is Ongoing

Amadeus Squadron was deployed to the front lines of the Basin before long. After a month and a week of fighting, Knight Captain Servol recalled them to the garrison. A messenger brought Luciana to his office in the officer’s quarters.

“You’ve been here in the Basin for two years,” he said. “Four successful tours as a Knight. You have consistently shown capabilities far above your current station and your squadron has been in the top ten of the entire First Legion for a year and a half. You earned a White Heart this past year when you faced death while holding the mine overnight. Your Knight Champion has agreed that it’s time to see you move up on the chain of command.” He paused.

“Sir?” She inhaled sharply.

“As you may have heard, Knight Lieutenant Beatrice Hanmoor was disabled by an injury to the lower spine,” he said. “She is to be honourably discharged and brought home to Elwynn in one week. If there are no objections, you will take up the mantle of Knight Lieutenant to the 113th Company of the 4th Brigade.”

She fought down an eager smile. “Sir, it would be my honour.”

“Then congratulations, Knight Amadeus. In one week’s time you’ll be a Lieutenant.” He stood at attention and saluted, and she returned it with bright eyes. When he relaxed, she followed suit, and when he opened his arms, she ducked down into a hug. “Congratulations, Luciana,” he said. He had taken her on when she first graduated, becoming something of a second father when Bertrand proved unable to stand up to his wife, even for his daughter’s sake. “I’m proud of you. I bet you’re proud of you, too,” he joked, releasing her.

“You’re damn right I am,” she said, wiping her wet eyes. “Though I do find the timing a bit strange.”

“They wanted to move you to the 2nd Brigade to promote you, but I told them to wait,” he said. “Then Hanmoor got shot in the back with a crossbow bolt and, well,” he shrugged. “I talked with her. She’s glad I found someone so quickly to replace her.”

“How is she?”

“She won’t be able to walk for a while, until they can get a prosthetic spine,” he explained. “Thank the Light for engineers. Until then, she’s been sent home to her family’s farm in Elwynn. They’ve already been sent care packages and things she’ll need until her spine can be replaced.”

“Her entire spine?”

“No, just the bottom third. Anyway. Best go tell your men the good news - when they heard of your betrothal your scout nearly beheaded me.”

She chuckled. “I’d beat him bloody for it, Sir.”

“I should hope so. Dismissed.” He waved her off when she saluted, and with a wide smile she left.

The week passed in a blur of drills and competitions with Granger Squadron. They had taken their sparring victories a little too seriously and Amadeus Squadron made it up to them on Hellback Mountain, cliff-climbing, and of course in sparring.

When it was time for her promotion ceremony, she and another officer from the 7th Brigade who had been promoted to Knight Captain were standing behind a tall podium. There were two sets of stairs leading up, and each officer stood at their respective place as their Legion’s Commander spoke briefly on their accomplishments, and the reasons they were being promoted.

“Knight Luciana Amadeus!” the Commander called, and Luciana climbed the steps and stood to attention beside the Commander’s podium in practiced movements. “For your valour and courageous leadership in the Arathi Basin, and in light of the White Hearts you earned serving there, you have been promoted to Knight Lieutenant! Do you have any objections?”

“No, Sir!” she said loudly.

“Do you accept this promotion, and the responsibilities and rights your new station will allow you?”

“Yes, Sir!”

“Then, I name you Knight Lieutenant Luciana Amadeus! 113th Company, your new Lieutenant!”

The soldiers aligned in perfect formation belonged to the units that were receiving their new officers. Members of the 113th Company, her soldiers, stood at attention and saluted in unison at a signal from their Knight-Captain. Thirty-four voices called in unison and it echoed through the courtyard: “Sir!” Luciana’s new insignia was pinned to her chest, the pin piercing the parade coat that had been modified to reflect her new rank.

She waited patiently while the other officer received his promotion and new insignia. And, then, she was allowed to join her soldiers in the courtyard. “It’s about damn time!” Devon said, shouldering his way to her. “You’re the best Knight in the Legion! Now you’re the best Lieutenant!”

“Devon, you’re going to jinx it,” she complained, batting his hands away as he tried to fix her collar. An officer from the 7th Brigade had grabbed it to give her a wet kiss in congratulations. “C’mon, they’re setting out drinks in Mess.”

A band had picked up a tune by the time she arrived in the mess hall. Something quick and fun, with some soldiers already drunkenly singing along. Some were more offbeat than others. Many soldiers of the other three companies introduced themselves, and she knew she’d at least have to remember some of their names. Or at least what company they belonged to. A list of thirty-four names was manageable.

“You got any clue who our new Knight’s gonna be?” Harry of the 50th squadron asked over the music, passing her a glass of red wine. “It’s obviously gonna be someone from the Academy. Straight out.” His squadron was still named for Hanmoor. It was usually a bit of a struggle to remember a name-change after so long.

“Like I was?” she countered with a smile, sipping her wine. It was sweet and dry and left a tart aftertaste on the tongue. “Don’t worry too much. I get to approve them. I’m sorry you lost your Knight. I’ll make sure you get a good replacement.”

“Thanks, Lt,” he said, clapping her on the shoulder. “We all heard about you, especially after you got that White Heart. Tossed down a mineshaft, was it? How’d you survive?”

She glanced around, looking for Enaeon. He rarely wore his armour around the garrison, as he knew it served only to alienate him, and his purpose here was to show how similar their people were - not how much bigger they were. “Well,” she said, waving him forward. The soldiers parted for him, some staring up at his forehead crest. “This is my healer,” she introduced. “Enaeon Lightheart of the Exodar. You can ask him how I survived.”

“Three of your men had to climb down after you, if I recall,” he said. “Only after perforating the orc that kicked you into the hole with multiple stab wounds, of course.”

“Of course!” someone parroted, laughing.

“They brought you back up. You were pouring blood from your head. That was my biggest concern, but thankfully your thick skull saved you permanent damage.” More laughter. “I was afraid that you had hurt your back, and back injuries can set wrongly in just an hour, so I poured much of my mana into you before you were even conscious.”

“It’s a good thing he did, because otherwise I might’ve died,” she said. “So. I earned a White Heart for getting kicked down a mineshaft, and because the Exodar sent me one hell of a healer. To Enaeon!” she said, raising her glass. “And all of those great glowy-eyed bastards who’ve saved our hides!” With a grin, she listened to her new soldiers call aye’s and knocked back her wine. “Who wants to get me a refill?” she said, holding out her glass, and it was promptly replaced with a full one.

The night passed in revelry, and she had several arm-wrestling matches with people she was starting to recognize. She won them all, of course. They all had drills tomorrow so she could acclimatize to the way their Knights operated, but only at 0900 rather than the usual 0600.

She led her men back to their barracks, which now proudly boasted a wooden plaque naming her as the Lieutenant of the 113th Company, and some of them crashed hard. A messenger had a letter for her in hand when they arrived.

“For you, Sir,” she said, saluting crisply and moving on.

“Thanks,” Luciana mumbled absently. There were three letters in hand. She was tempted to go to the officer’s quarters for privacy, but relented when Lars called her in.

“Whatcha got?” he asked, peering over her shoulder.

“Letters. Step off,” she grumbled when he followed her. “Give a woman some space.”

“Sorry, Sir,” he said with a grin.

She sat on her cot, her back against the wall, and opened the first letter from her father.

 

_Dearest Luciana,_

_I can’t express how proud you make me. When I received news of your impending promotion, I was filled with joy on your behalf. I know how much your career in the army means to you and I want you to know that we are all very proud of you._

_Your sisters congratulate you and hope you can return home soon to show them your new insignia. They look forward to more pecan pies and hope you don’t mind that they’ve told all their friends about your promotion._

_Your elder brothers are also very proud of you. They’ve boasted to their fellows at the Chevalier’s Guild of their sister, Lieutenant at twenty. They hope you can return home soon for a proper birthday celebration._

_Frederic is also very proud of you for becoming a Knight. He also reiterates that he was completely aware of your previous status as a Knight, but claims that you are now more Knight-y and he looks forward to defeating you in fair foam-sword combat._

_I, too, hope you can return home soon, even if only for a few days. I’d like to celebrate your promotion as well as your twentieth birthday. I pray for your safety every night, my child. I am blessed to have you as a daughter._

_With much love,_

_Bertrand Amadeus_

 

She smiled, reverently refolding the letter and placing it back into its sturdy envelope. The second letter was addressed to her as Knight Lieutenant from her Commander.

 

_Knight Lieutenant Luciana Amadeus_

_You were brought to my attention when you first joined the 4th Brigade by Knight Captain Leon Servol, then Knight Lieutenant of the 115th Company. He immediately recognized your talents as a strategist and told me of the impeccable control you held over your fury. As a warrior, you were unparalleled in the Academy._

_When news of Knight Lieutenant Hanmoor’s news reached me, I knew that a suitable replacement as Knight Lieutenant patiently waited in the 113th Company. I contacted your Knight Captain and he agreed that you were ready._

_Despite your tentative betrothal to the Prince, which I am aware you are concerned may cause favouritism, you are still an officer in the Stormwind Imperial Armed Forces. You have thus far gone above and beyond your call of duty and I look forward to seeing how far your strength will carry you._

_As a Knight Lieutenant, you now hold command over your own squadron and three others. For the next month, there will be some complaints and friction. After that month I expect you to have seamlessly integrated the four groups together into a powerful war machine. I feel that you will do well in that regard._

_As a warrior, I commend your control and your appropriately applied fury in the battlefield. As a warrior myself, I understand how difficult it can be. I eagerly await the day I can watch you in combat. I hear tell you are a fearsome sight to behold._

_Regards,_

_Commander Evan Herald of the 1st Legion_

 

She put that aside as well, and with a proud smile, opened the third envelope. It held two papers, two letters with different handwriting.

 

_Dear Luciana,_

_I heard of your promotion to Knight Lieutenant. I know how important your place in the army is to you and I’m glad for you. I know you of all people will be able to handle the increase in responsibility and I pray for you and your soldiers. I hope you are proud of yourself, and you should be. You were seen as capable and worthy of the position, and I know that you are._

_Your family must also be proud of you. To know that their daughter is a skilled and capable officer must be a source of satisfaction. I imagine they look forward to seeing you again to properly celebrate your promotion._

_If you do plan to return to Stormwind, please let me know. I’d like to spend more time with you if you have the time to spare. I imagine you must be quite busy now. The betrothal is tentative, but you seem an interesting and intelligent person and I look forward to knowing you better._

_With regards,_

_Prince Anduin Wrynn_

 

She sighed and wet her dry lips. Absently, she wished for a glass of water. The wine had dried her out a bit and the dancing hadn’t helped. She tucked the letter away for safekeeping - if someone got their hands on it, and they had a tendency towards scheming, she could land quite a few people in danger, herself included. She opened the last letter and read slowly.

_  
Lady Knight Luciana Amadeus,_

_I am pleased to hear of your promotion. It was appropriately timed, considering your successful two years as a Knight and the unfortunate injury of your previous Knight Lieutenant. She will receive the care and pension any veteran would, and the honourable discharge owed to her. Her family will welcome her home with the items she will need until a prosthetic can be made for her injured spine._

_I am sure you are aware of the responsibilities you now hold and I am confident you will fulfill them as you did your duties as a Knight. You consistently went above and beyond your call and I trust you will continue to do so with a clear head and righteous fury. I hear tell of your prowess as a warrior. When you are next in Stormwind, I should like to spar with you and see it for myself. I saw only a hint of it when last we met. I look forward to meeting your beast head-on._

_Anduin is happy for you. I trust you will behave accordingly. The betrothal is tentative - a good idea, all considering, and I am proud of you as a Knight under my banner for thinking of such a solution so quickly - but you are a capable woman with a good heart and should you and Anduin become friends, even if another is found for the throne, you will have a steady rapport in your years to come as an officer and will be able to support and advise him well._

_News of your betrothal has reached our allies in the far corners of the world. It has also likely reached our enemies. A tentative betrothal is not nearly as dangerous as a firm one, but be wary all the same. Advise your soldiers to look out for potential spies, and be discreet. We will continue to search for another suitable match for the Prince. You were his first choice, but a second can be found if you feel you cannot fulfill your obligations past your dedication to the Imperial Army._

_Be aware, as well, that any choices made must have my approval._

_With regards,_

_King Varian Wrynn_

 

She re-read the letter several times. _Any choices made must have my approval._ Did that mean she was his first choice, as well? She hoped not. It would mean that she was trapped from the beginning, and that any concessions to her party had merely been plays.

She sighed, and set the letters aside for a moment. “Anyone feel like getting your Lieutenant some water?” she groaned. “First person who gets me a tall glass of ice water and some cheese gets to skip out of one drill tomorrow. Not including Enaeon.”

Four people immediately launched themselves out of their cots and raced out of the barracks. Two more groaned loudly in complaint. Devon was giggling a little madly as he snuck out the back door. He returned within minutes with her order. Not half a minute later, the rest of her men returned, scrambling through the door.

“Scout wins,” she mumbled. “But I’ll take that cheese.”

There was plenty of moaning and groaning. “Devon, how’d you get it so fast?” Kain asked.

“Well, you see,” he started. “I don’t give away my secrets when they get me free passes out of drills. Very simple. I didn’t even have to run! Thanks, Sir,” he said, winking at Luciana. “One less drill for me. Hoorah!”

The next morning Luciana didn’t rise with the sun, tired as she was. The excitement of the previous night had worn her down a bit. Still, at 0800, she rose and made her men get up, too. “Shit, shower, and shave,” she ordered. “You’re representing me out there, boys, and I will look damn good. Let’s show the other squadrons what it means to be in the army.”

They jogged in formation to the training grounds where the rest of the company awaited, lined up with their Knights standing in parade rest before them. “Knight Lieutenant coming in! Motivation check!”

“Hoorah!” the soldiers responded. 

“At ease,” Luciana said, throwing her voice. It was deep and she had practice, and it carried well. “As you should know by this point, I’m your new Knight Lieutenant. Amadeus squadron!”

“Sir!”

“Do you follow me?”

“Sir! Yes Sir!”

“Join the others.” Her men lined up in formation beside the others, completing the Company. “113th, by the time I’m done with you we will be a well-oiled war machine! I expect full cooperation with minimal complaint! If you have a real issue, one that goes beyond me making you run suicides...” She grinned ominously. “Then you can bring it directly to me or, if your courage fails you, take it to the Knight Captain. I assume you all know where to find him? Good!”

She paced in front of them. She had rehearsed, somewhat, what she wanted to say, and she said it now. “I am tentatively betrothed to the Prince,” she said. “Likely you’ve all heard. If not, you have now. This will not change how I operate and it will not make me a courtier! I am a goddamn Knight and none of you will forget it by the end of this month. I will push you together in very uncomfortable ways. You are my Company and when you’re in the field, you represent me! If you can’t make me look like the sun shines out my ass, you don’t belong in the 113th! Am I understood?”

“Sir! Yes Sir!”

“Am. I. _Understood?_ ” she roared.

“Sir, yes Sir!” they roared back.

“Good! Healers, aside. Line up at the tracks! Suicide runs!” Enaeon gathered the other three healers, all draenei in the same integration program that had brought the Triage, and the Exodar, into the 1st Legion. She could see him murmuring to them about how she would exclude healers from certain drills to allow them to practice their own craft, and also to avoid injury. And, just in case someone was hurt, they would be ready and able to heal them.

She had their Knights run alongside them. The squadron without a Knight had her yelling in their ears, instead. “You think you’re soldiers?” she screamed. “Prove it! Run until your fucking ears bleed!” 

When she was satisfied they were wishing ‘suicide’ wasn’t just the name of the exercise, she called them back. “Form up!” They were clearly exhausted from last night, panting for breath or grimacing in pain. “I’m not satisfied,” she growled. “But I can see you’re all useless right now.” Standing in lines, healers included, the soldiers awaited further pain. “Knights, you know the way to the cliffs?”

“Yes, Sir!” they called. Hailey Oaken of the 51st squadron and Charlie Plains of the 52nd were watching her, likely judging. She ignored it.

“Lead the way! Hanmoor and Amadeus, follow behind! When you get there I want to see you all doing pushups! In sync!”

She left them, heading to the officer’s barracks to eat breakfast. She had passed around orders that her soldiers weren’t to eat before drills that day, which would explain their terrible time doing suicides, and she took the time to get her energy up.

“Heard you made them skip breakfast,” Knight Lieutenant Rivers of the 115th said, greeting her with a wave. “That’s rough. You ain’t making any friends.”

“I’m not here to make friends,” she said. “I treat them the way I treat my own squadron. They’ll figure it out, or they’ll complain to the Captain and he’ll make them figure it out.” She shrugged, eating quickly. “Stables open?”

“Yeah.”

She took a horse to the cliffs, relatively far from the garrison but still within its limits. They were carved specifically into the face of the mountain for training and had some footholds interspersed on the face. Nothing too easy - just enough to keep the people moving upwards.

“113th!” she called, entering the clearing. Her soldiers were dutifully doing push-ups, mostly in sync, under the watchful gaze of the two Knights. “Form up! Good to see you following orders. I’d hate to have that problem so early into our relationship.” She stayed atop the horse, smiling grimly. “We’re not here to climb, kids. Anyone from Amadeus wanna tell the rest of the class why we’re here?”

“Sir!” Lawrence yelled. “We’re here to meditate! Sir!”

“That’s right! Don’t laugh, now,” she warned. “Meditation is what gives a monk the inner peace they need to fight. It’s what gives warriors like myself the ability to control our fury, rather than being controlled by it. For the next hour, you are all going to sit quiet with your legs crossed, your back straight, and your hands on your knees, palms up. You’re going to breathe slowly, you’re going to count from one up to however far you can get, right up until I say stand, and you’re going to relax. Afterwards, if you’re all nice and stretched out, I’m going to explain why I had you do this. Sit! On mark, close your eyes. If you talk I will have you climb the cliff while the others sit nice and quiet. Knights, you too. I’ll keep watch. Mark!”

She paced on horseback around the clearing, listening intently for signs of incoming hostiles or friendlies. She also listened for talking, and hoped she wouldn’t have to make good on her threat. Climbing the cliffs was highly unpleasant and dangerous. Soldier’s hands would often be cut open and they’d bleed as they climbed. Her palms still carried scars from when she had stubbornly climbed all the way to the top. Thankfully, no one spoke. They appeared to be taking her seriously

When the hour was up, she called, “And that’s one hour! To your feet!” Everyone stood, some stretching or yawning. She brought her horse to a halt in front of them. “I imagine you’re all pretty tired. Didn’t do much actual sleeping last night. Right?” Some people nodded, looking sheepish. She received a few grimaces and smiles as well. “And you haven’t eaten yet today. You’re hungry, tired, feeling sluggish and heavy. Right? Right. You didn’t give your bodies what they need. Raymond!” she called, recognizing Hanmoor’s soldier in the front row. “What does the body need?”

“Good sleep, good eats,” he said.

“What else? Natasha!” she called, looking at a woman from Plains squadron.

“Proper exercise,” she said.

“Right! And none of you have given your bodies those first two very important items! When you give your body what it needs, it will give you what you need! Your body needs food, it needs rest, and it needs exercise. You take care of those meat bags and they’ll keep you going for years! But you also have a mind to take care of. Enaeon, how does a healthy body make a healthy mind?” she asked. The draenei was visible over the heads of the humans, standing somewhere in the middle of the crowd.

“A healthy body responds properly to the mind,” he called back. “When the body is balanced, the mind feels right.”

“Exactly that,” she agreed. “A sound body houses a sound mind! You can feed your body, rest it and strengthen it. You need to do the same for the mind. Feed it with knowledge, rest it with meditation, and strengthen it with challenges. When the body sleeps, the mind is active. When the body is awake, the mind is still active. Take the time to still it, to rest it, whenever you can safely do so. The more balanced your mind is the more likely it is you’ll see the end of your life from the veteran’s club in Stormwind instead of on the end of an orcish blade! The mind can be damaged just like the body. If you feel a crack, see someone about it. For now, form up! And... march!”

She led the way back to camp, giving the Knights the go ahead to start a marching song. She led them straight to the Mess Hall, where they eagerly joined another Company for a well-earned meal. Luciana returned the horse to the stables and went to see the Knight Captain to give her soldiers time to eat their fill.

“Knight Lieutenant Amadeus here to see you, Sir.”

“Let her in.”

She saluted crisply and fell into parade rest. “Sir, I’d like to request a short leave to visit family in Stormwind.”

“Mm.” He was sitting at his desk, reading through his daily reports. “When, and how long?”

“Whenever you can spare me. I’d like two days.”

“I can give you two days and one night this weekend, or three days and two nights in two weeks. I suggest you don’t leave your Company so soon after taking command.”

“In two weeks is perfect then, Sir. Thank you.”

“Sure,” he replied absently. “Fill out the form and bring it to me tonight. I’ll sign off. I have three possible Knights for your 50th.” He handed her a long envelope full of papers. “Take a few days to think on it. I’ll take your opinion into consideration.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“That’s all?”

“Yes.”

“Dismissed.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

She dropped off the envelope at her barracks, tucking it into the chest at the foot of her cot, and headed over to Mess. Her soldiers were finishing up their meal, and hurried when someone reported her approach. By the time she actually reached it, they were lining up at the tray window to return their trays, plates, and utensils. She stood with her hands clasped behind her back and waited not two minutes. “Marching formation!” she said. “And, march!”

She led them on a slow march through the training yard, stopping in front of a wall-climbing course. She had her squadron demonstrate how to quickly get three people over the wall - the first stopped at the base with their hands held out, and lifted the second. They would do the same for the third who would then take the second’s hand, and the first would grab the third’s leg to also be pulled up the top of the wall. They spent several hours on it, until she was satisfied they could all do it correctly, and by that time the sun was nearing the horizon. As she had promised, she let Devon sit it out when he finally asked to use his reward for fetching her cheese and water the previous night.

“Good work today, kids!” she called. “At attention! Salute!” She looked them over, allowing herself a small smile. She was their Knight Lieutenant and by the Light they’d make her proud. “At ease! That’s enough for today. Tomorrow we start at 0500. There’s a long march ahead of you. Give your body some good rest. Dismissed!”

While they dispersed, most heading to the showers, she made her way back to her barracks. Luciana did some exercises with her men, but most of her training came from her time in the private grounds of the officer’s quarters, where she not only exercised her body but also trained her mind by running simulations with her superiors and fellows. After all, she had to make it seem effortless to her men, to give them the impression that she was better, stronger than them. She was the model they had to match.

Her squadron returned in pieces to their barracks. She was sitting comfortably on her bed - she had a small office in the headquarters now that she was a lieutenant, but she was already on her cot.

“Lt, you’re killing us,” Devon groaned, falling forward over her legs. She stared at him. “My legs,” he complained. “I can’t run like this. I can’t scout when I’m dead!”

“You’re fine,” she said. “Get off me.” He obediently rolled over off her bed, thumping off the chest and then onto the floor. “You’re fucking ridiculous,” she snorted. 

She read through the files her Captain had given her, and filled out the leave request form. “In two weeks, I’ll be gone another three days,” she told her men.

“Going home to celebrate?” Kain asked. “Can you take me with you?”

“Unfortunately not. My sisters would eat you alive. And then you’d likely get pissed on by the pug.”

“Are they cute, at least?”

She glared at him. “They’re twelve and thirteen,” she deadpanned.

“Oh. Oh Light, no.” He shuddered. “I ain’t touching kids.”

“I should very well fucking hope not. I would tear you into pieces if you did.”

“I would deserve it.”

They kept the noise down to a murmur. Some played cards on Christopher’s bed with hard candies as tokens. The jar Luciana had brought back with her several weeks ago had been carefully rationed and the sweets were considered more valuable than gold coins. The jar was still one third full.

Lights out was called from outside and they extinguished the torches, leaving only two still burning. One torch over the front door and one over the back kept their exits illuminated. One never knew what would happen in an army garrison.


	8. Scion

Her leave came after a long two weeks of running drills. She had received news of some minor complaints from the Knight Captain - apparently someone was upset she didn’t always let them eat breakfast first. She limited that to once a week, and ignored the complaint about her treating the healers preferentially. She had explained it to the Knights, to the healers, and her squadron had likely already shared news of it with the rest of the Company. Anyone else would just have to deal with it and learn why, exactly, healers were so important.

The new Knight would be arriving a few days after her return. It had taken some schedule manoeuvring but soon the 50th squadron, previously named Hanmoor, would have its new Knight. Edward Grayson, recently graduated with honours from the Military Academy of Stormwind. The squadron had mixed feelings on having a new officer. But then, so would any other group who had lost their friend.

The boat that brought Luciana to Stormwind was of Darnassian make, and slid over the water like the wisps that populated their world tree. _The Twilit Lute_ was a comfortable ship, save for the odd silence, and Luciana hardly noticed the five days that passed under a cloudy, windy sky. Were it not for her wish of a music player, it would have been an outright pleasant trip.

When she disembarked, Bannister was waiting for her with a smile on his face. “Congratulations!” he said, greeting her with a tight hug. “Knight Lieutenant Luciana Amadeus,” he said, pulling back and fixing her hair. “It has a nice ring to it. You cut your hair again? It’s almost as short as mine!”

“It was getting a bit annoying, honestly,” she said. “Tying it back all the time, getting it in my eyes.”

“Hm. Wonder what your lovely betrothed will think of it?”

“Doesn’t really matter, does it?” They walked side by side, and garnered a good amount of attention. People were starting to recognize Luciana on sight. “It’s only a tentative.”

“Still. We’ve gotten some fan mail.”

“Really?” Luciana asked, surprised. “Why?”

“I don’t know. The Prince is popular.” He shrugged. “I should warn you, Mother is not pleased.”

“Why would she be? It’s not like I’ve reached the next stage of my career or anything. It’s not like I’m successful and my efforts are recognized by my superiors. It’s not like my Company respects me after only two weeks.” She scoffed. “Legion take her. I’m tired of it.”

“She’s still your mother,” he said. “That’s not a way to speak of your parent.”

“She’s no mother to me, Bann. Hasn’t been since she caught me with the practice sword.”

He sighed, but didn’t respond, and they walked in silence for a while. “How are you taking to all the travelling?” he asked as they approached the family manor.

“I’m getting used to it. I’m ever thankful I’ve got a good Knight Captain. He takes care of my soldiers while I’m away and makes sure I don’t get flak when my voyaging is necessary. And anyway, it’s not like the Knight Champion could say much if I tell her it’s family business. That could mean any number of things and she wouldn’t risk it including the Royal House.”

“Of course not,” he said, smirking. They entered the family gardens and immediately the rest of their siblings piled onto Luciana, including Desmond. She managed to stay standing, until Bannister also leaned his weight on her shoulder. They collapsed to the ground in a laughing heap.

“I missed you!” Ophelia cried, giving Luciana’s face a few big kisses.

“You have to tell me stories!” Frederic declared. “All night! No bedtime! Just stories!”

“Alright, alright! Mercy!” Luciana laughed. “Mercy, please!”

They were happy to see her, and kept her occupied long enough that their father had to send for her. He was in his office, his work piling up ever since the betrothal. Talia had taken on the burden of handling that business, voluntarily taking the weight off of Bertrand’s shoulders. When Luciana entered the study Bertrand leaped to his feet, going around the desk to give her a hug.

“Dear daughter!” he said, holding her head to give her forehead a kiss. “Dear, sweet daughter. Twenty years old and a Knight Lieutenant. I am so proud of you.”

“Thank you, Father,” she said, feeling tears form. She blinked them away, smiling.

“Are you happy?”

“Very. I never thought it would happen. I mean, I was aware it would but I was content as a Knight and never actually thought about becoming a Lieutenant.”

“And now?” he asked.

“Now, I aim to be the best Knight Lieutenant the First Legion’s ever seen,” she said. “And then, its best Knight Captain. And then we’ll see.”

“I have full confidence in you,” he said, hands on her shoulders. “You’re a brave, intelligent young lady. You can do anything.”

“Well, I have trouble sometimes with the piano...”she said, laughing when her father gave her a shake.

“Hush, you,” he said, smiling fondly. “Are you hungry?” She nodded. “Come, then. Let’s go eat. I’ve got some things for you for your twentieth. Oh! And the Prince sent word that he would like to see you while you’re here, if you have the time. He mentioned he would quite understand if you wanted to spend your time with your family.”

“I’ll make some time, of course,” she said, following to the dining hall.

The rest of her family gathered while she was seated and patiently waiting. Mannarie offered a smile that almost looked sincere, but the lines in her forehead indicated otherwise. “Congratulations, dear,” she said. “And a belated happy birthday. I wish you could have spent that week with us but you’re here now.”

Luciana bit down the words that bubbled up from the magma in her chest and sent a look to Bannister that warned of her short fuse. He offered a wan smile, and they ate mostly in silence.

“Luciana, what does being a Knight Lieutenant change from before?” Ophelia asked curiously, pushing the remains of her mashed potatoes around her plate. Mannarie patted her hand and she stopped, placing her fork down on the plate.

“Well, before I was in charge of my squadron. Seven soldiers and a healer. Mine and three other squadrons were under the command of Knight Lieutenant Beatrice Hanmoor. She was disabled from a back injury and honourably discharged. I took her place. Now I am in charge of the four squadrons and their Knights.”

“So you’ve got thirty-five people,” Dania said. “Instead of eight.”

“Yes. My squadron is still under my direct command, which is usually what happens unless their Knight is transferred to another regiment. That rarely happens. Or, if the Knight moves up enough to become a Marshal, their squadron is assigned a new leader. Or the squadron will be transferred to new positions under their Knight and the squadron is remade with new recruits.”

“How do you keep track of all that?” Ophelia asked.

“It’s all numbers,” Dania told her. “Just moving ones.”

“Ugh. I’ll leave that to her,” Ophelia replied. “Numbers.” She shuddered.

“Luciana,” Bertrand cut in before the two could start to bicker. “As you know, the twentieth year is when the House recognizes you as a scion and hears your voice in matters of leadership and direction. To celebrate this,” he said, standing and gesturing. Servants brought forward a long and narrow item draped in fine blue silk. Luciana’s eyes widened - the shape was obvious, but she could hardly believe it. She stood, and her father approached. 

“You have honoured the House with your service to the Alliance, your dedication to the interests and security of the House, and your continued efforts to see the House thrive,” he said, his voice taking on an authoritative tone. “To thank you and to honour you, the House commissioned blacksmiths of Ironforge to craft you a fine weapon, a blade worthy of your hand, to see you through the most bloody fights and the longest nights.” He pulled the silk from the blade, revealing a dark blue sheath made of stiff layered leather. Enchantments were sewn into the sheath and under the sunlight streaming through the windows they seemed to glow. “For the past four months they have laboured to create a masterpiece, and now, the House of Amadeus bestows it upon you, its newest scion and favoured warrior.” He held the sheath with both hands, leaving the handle free.

She drew the blade and it sang in her ears. The hilt was perfectly formed to her hand, bejeweled with sapphires and emeralds. The cross guard was decorated with etchings made to look like wings and the pommel was shaped like a wolf’s head with two small yellow topaz. They glittered as she rotated the sword to admire its work. “This is truly a fine blade,” she said, testing the balance with careful movements. Enchantments gleamed on the sword’s silver blade and a wavy pattern ran its length, the spine and the edges made of different metals. She gripped it with both hands and shifted to a battle stance, and smiled. “It feels as though it might respond to a very thought.”

“It is yours,” Bertrand said, eyes twinkling with mirth. “A fine blade for a fine warrior.” He handed her the sheath and she slid the sword home, enjoying the smoothness of the motion. He then handed her a custom tooled belt and she slid the sheath’s hoop onto it. She belted it around her waist, replacing her old leather one. A servant held out a hand for it and she smiled at him in thanks.

“I am honoured, Father,” she said, bowing at the waist. “The House honours me with such a gift.”

“We only return the favour,” he said. “Now then. Who wants to see Luciana’s birthday presents?”

Her siblings had each gifted her with something unique, from Frederic’s surprisingly well-made clay statue of Frogo to Bannister’s collection of joke books (“Lighten up before you sink into the ground!”). Her parents had paid for her new sheath and had also commissioned for her two outfits.

One was more feminine, with a long royal blue dress that reached her mid calf. It was slit up both legs to the hips and underneath was cream leggings. The skirt was edged with swirling patterns in powder blue thread. The top of the dress was separated from the skirt with a powder blue line that circled her waist and dipped low into a point that rested two inches below her belly button. The dress had sleeves made of three straps laying over each shoulder, and accompanying royal blue gloves that stopped just after her wrists. The gloves were decorated with fanciful white thread patterns, with the Amadeus crest embroidered in white on the inside of the wrists. Luciana showed it off to her siblings, to which Desmond swooned theatrically and Frederic declared her to be the most beautiful Lady in the city.

The second outfit closely resembled her parade uniform. Sturdy black leather boots reached her knees, and each was laced up the back and decorated with silver studs up the exterior side. Her pants were skin tight, almost tighter than leggings, and coloured in a rich cream. The lines up the outside of her thighs, coinciding with the lines of studs on her boots, were deep blue. Geometric designs were sewn into them in gold thread. Her shirt was jet black, stretchy and tight and tucked into the leggings. Over it she wore a deep blue coat, double breasted with a short standing collar. It was form-fitting and the sleeves were the perfect length, and surprisingly the perfect size for her arms. The hem descended just enough to hide the tightness of her leggings over her buttocks, and descended more over the front of her legs into two sharp points. She imagined she looked quite dashing, because both of her sisters giggled and wouldn’t tell her why.

“You’ll garner quite a few stares with this,” her father said when she shook out her shoulders and then fell into parade rest. “You look every inch a Knight.”

“And every inch a noble,” her mother added. “You look wonderful in both outfits.”

“That’s because they’re both wonderful. Thank you.” She smiled at her father, who returned it easily.

She spent the night with her siblings, regaling Frederic with tales of her new Company and how she managed to tame them into something resembling a fully functional unit. She rested that night with Penny the mastiff snoring lightly on her carpet. It was easier to sleep knowing the dog would alert her of any potential intruders with a loud bay.

The morning came and she rose with the sun. Penny groaned at her, and refused to get up until she nudged the dog’s rump. She ate breakfast alone, as no one else was awake yet, and went into the family gardens to acquaint herself with her new weapon.

It looked like a beautiful piece of art to her keen eye, but it sang through the air and she fancied it was eager for blood.”What shall I name you?” she wondered aloud, going through the precise and deadly motions of a shadow fight, stabbing and slashing and spinning to protect the rear. The balance was perfect for her, and she wondered again how they had managed it without knowing her. Perhaps the dwarves of Ironforge hadn’t readily shared all of their secrets?

She sheathed her sword, returning it to her chambers, and bathed. When she was redressed in a buttoned shirt and airy trousers, she descended the stairs to the main floor. Her aunt Talia awaited her.

“Shall I send word to the Keep that you have time for the Prince tomorrow?” she asked. “Or perhaps today?”

“Today would be better, I think. I have nothing else planned.”

“Do you have something nice to wear?”

“I have the two outfits Father gifted me,” she replied.

“Yes, I saw them. I haven’t seen them on you, yet. Come, show me.”

Talia followed her to her chambers, where she first wore the dress, and then the leggings and coat. “The second one,” Talia said. “Most certainly. You are a Knight, that’s why the betrothal was made tentative. Best to continue showing you as such.”

“I thought so, too,” Luciana agreed.

“Plus, it makes your bottom look absolutely divine.” Talia was laughing at Luciana’s playfully indignant expression when she left to send word to the Keep. They waited an hour to give them time to prepare.

The walk to the Keep was longer than ever with the amount of attention Luciana was receiving. Talia reasoned that it was her clothes - they were quite well made to her figure. A woman and a warrior, she said. “You have an aura of power and command. People are going to notice.”

“It’s part of the whole officer thing,” Luciana said. “You have to look like one to be one. If you slouch and mumble, your soldiers won’t even look at you.”

“Keep it up. You look fantastic.”

They reached the Keep and climbed the ridiculous staircase slowly. “I think these stairs are to discourage invasion,” Luciana mused. “No one would continue an attack when they see how many steps they’d have to climb.”

Talia laughed, delicately covering her mouth with her fingers. The Seneschal greeted them at the entrance to the castle. “Lady Talia, Knight Lieutenant Amadeus,” he said. “The Prince is expecting you in the private wing. A guard will guide you.” He waved a Royal Guard forward. The woman’s face was stern, but she bowed to Luciana and turned on her heel. Luciana followed. “If you would like, Lady Talia, Lord Pembrooke has volunteered his attentions for the day. He promises a lovely morning,” she heard the Seneschal say.

“That sounds wonderful,” Talia answered smoothly. “And where can I find Lord Pembrooke?”

“If you would follow me?”

Luciana lost track of her aunt after going through a nondescript doorway off the hallway that led to the throne room. The guard led her up two long flights of stairs, and then down a hall with a lush, long red carpet over the stone floor. “The Prince’s chambers,” the guard said flatly, and rapped her knuckles smartly on the door. Six guards were stationed in the single stretch of hall, and the occasional seventh would walk its length before disappearing into another hall. “Knight Lieutenant Amadeus, here to see you.”

“Enter!” the Prince called, and Luciana obeyed. He was standing over a table that held an assortment of finger foods and sweets, and a glass decanter of rosewater lemonade. “Luciana,” he greeted with a warm smile. “Is it already if I address you by name?”

“It’s fine,” she said, nodding once. He had the Stormwind Imperial Symphony playing again, one of their summer scores. 

“Wonderful.” His shoulders dipped in the way Luciana recognized as a motion to prepare to hug someone, but he refrained, instead clasping his hands and then gesturing to the table. “You can call me Anduin, though if you’re not comfortable with that, Prince is fine.” His eyes wandered her form, resting on the insignia of rank on her breast. “I don’t know how much time you have to spare. I understand you’d want to spend most of it with your family. But, if you don’t mind, I’d love to hear more about you.”

“What would you like to know?” Luciana asked politely, sitting at the table when he was seated.

“Anything you want to tell me.”

She told him of the first time she held a sword, how she felt better in those few minutes than she had in years - how it seemed to ease her breath to swing the weapon, how smooth the motions were despite her inexperience and lack of stamina. “I was tired after only a few minutes,” she said. “But I felt alive. I knew, then, that I was a warrior and not the Lady my mother wanted.”

“She must have been disappointed,” Anduin said, and something in his eyes told Luciana he had seen some hint of the conflict flit over her face.

“She was,” she agreed evenly.

“But you still pursued the path of a warrior,” he said.

“I did. My brothers are five and six years my elders, but when I told them, at eight years of age, that I wanted to be a warrior, they took me seriously. They made it so that I could watch their tutor train them, and made sure I had the knowledge necessary to keep me from overworking myself or straining a muscle. Bannister was the one to deliver me to the Military Academy while Desmond distracted my Mother.”

“What of your Father?” Anduin asked.

“He is one to allow his children to choose their own path,” she said, framing it in a nicer way than ‘he can’t stand up to Mother’. “Once we have found it, he encourages us and makes sure we have what we need. When Dania showed a skill with maths, he found her appropriate tutors and reduced the amount of time they would spend with her on arts and theatre, which she did not enjoy so actively.”

“I see. That’s a wonderful approach,” Anduin noted. “To allow one’s children to pursue their interests.”

“It is. It’s turned out well so far,” she joked. “Though considering the danger inherent in my position in the army, one could argue that point.”

“You’re happy there,” Anduin pointed out.

“I am. Still, there is danger.”

“You’re well-insulated by your soldiers. And you’ve trained with the sword since you were... eight, you said?”

“Seven or eight, yes.”

“I see you have a blade with you now.” He nodded to her sword.

“Ah, yes. It was a gift for my twentieth birthday from the House. Twenty is when we consider our children to be able to properly regulate the House and its interests.”

“So, you are now a scion of Amadeus.”

“Yes.”

“The blade looks finely crafted. Might I see it?” he asked, curious. She smiled and stood.

“Of course. The blade was commissioned from dwarven blacksmiths in Ironforge. I don’t know how exactly they managed to make it so perfectly suited to me without actually seeing me. I can only assume some great secret of the stones make it possible.” She drew the blade and reveled in its song. Her smile widened and her eyes were keen on the blade. “The pommel is not solid gold. Rather, it’s compressed iron covered in gold leaf. A blunt weapon, if it’s ever needed. Quite practical. The blade is enchanted - you can see the wave, here, where they worked in the magic. Hammered out of dark iron for its spine, for a bit of give. Too stiff a spine will snap when you strike something, enchanted or not. The edge is mithril, nearly unbreakable and able to hold its edge for a long time between whetstones.”

Anduin watched her as she spoke, and she demonstrated with a few tight, controlled swings. “You’re quite passionate about blades,” he commented. She saw his smile and purposefully ignored whatever lay beyond the friendliness of the expression.

“I suppose I am.” She returned the friendly smile and sheathed her sword, taking her seat. “I have yet to name it.”

“Would you name it for a person?” he suggested. “A value, perhaps?”

“I’m truly not sure,” she said with a chuckle. “I’ll have to think on it. Perhaps something will come to me on my way back to Arathi.”

“When do you leave? Tomorrow?”

“Yes, tomorrow evening. It will be a shorter trip on the _Tiderunner_. Four days, hopefully, unless we run into a storm.”

“I’m glad you could make time to visit,” he said. “Perhaps next time you’re in Stormwind I will see you again?”

“Certainly.”

He watched her for a moment, looking for something. “Tell me of your squadron,” he said. “I’ve heard soldiers say that a squadron is like your family.”

“That’s exactly what it is. We are brothers and sisters and siblings. We eat together, fight together, train together, sleep together. Die together,” she added. “Any soldier in the Imperial Forces would tell you they’d betray their own blood before they’d betray their squadron. Blood family isn’t always your ally. Your squadron is the family you made.”

“It must be strange to be without them,” he said. “You’ve spent so much of your life with other soldiers.”

“It can be hard to sleep,” she admitted with a bit of laughter in her voice, and a sheepish grin. “I’m used to hearing eight other people breathing and snoring and mumbling. When I’m at the manor, it’s too quiet.”

“Could you not bed with your sisters?” he asked.

“I could. But...” she trailed off. “I spent my first tour fighting Forsaken and orcs. That doesn’t make for pleasant dreams.”

“I see.” His gaze changed, not so searching, a bit more sombre. “Then I would understand why you wouldn’t want to bed down with them for the night. Perhaps a dog?” he suggested. “I’ve heard that some veterans have dogs to help them adjust to living alone.”

“I had our mastiff on the floor with me last night,” she said. “But, it’s very different. The barrack is my home,” she told him. “It has been for two years. Amadeus squadron is my family.”

“Is that why you don’t visit for more than a few days at a time?”

“That, and I am an officer. I have responsibilities I cannot abandon. I can leave them to the Knight Captain or another Lieutenant, but I have my part and I cannot leave my Company without a leader.”

“I understand,” he said. She knew he did. He had an entire kingdom. “I won’t keep you for much longer. I just have a question for you.”

She glanced over at the grandfather clock in the corner - it was just past noon. She had spent nearly two hours with the Prince. “Ask away,” she said, gaze flicking back to him.  
“My father wants to fight you,” he said. “He says that the best way to know a warrior is to fight them. Has he spoken to you about it?”

“He mentioned it,” she said. “He wrote that he heard of my prowess as a warrior and would like to see it for himself in a sparring match.”

“And you find this agreeable? Not many would. I could speak to him, if you are hesitant.”

“No, I wouldn’t ask you to do that,” she said hurriedly, waving away his concern. “In the letter, he indicated that he was speaking not as the King, but as a fellow warrior.”

“And that makes a difference?”

“It does,” she affirmed. “Warriors... are not the same as soldiers. Soldiers are well trained and can have great skill, but warriors have a fury a soldier cannot match. It’s what drives us to fight, for whatever reason we find.”

“I have seen it,” Anduin said.

“I have it, and have worked to control it since I was a child. It can be difficult to control for any number of reasons. Trauma, lack of discipline, unpreparedness... A warrior has to control themselves. And any other warrior understands this intrinsically. When you speak as a warrior to your fellow, there are many things that are understood without being said.”

“Warrior culture,” Anduin said quietly. “I’ve heard of it. The idea that all warriors have this fury, and so all warriors support and aid each other.”

“Exactly. When I am beyond anger, when my fury grows too loud, I have to release it. I go to the Old Town, or to the training grounds in the garrison, and any warrior present could see it, understand it, and their own fury would respond to mine. The reason behind that is contested - some say it’s the warrior’s spirit recognizing the fury that must be spent, and rising to the challenge to aid a fellow. Some say that it’s the spirit that sees another’s fury as a challenge for dominance, or superiority. Either way, when I see a warrior struggling to contain their fury, I feel I must aid them. It’s what I would expect from a warrior should I find myself in that position.”

Anduin’s eyes were focused on her face, and she absently wet her lips. “I could certainly see that in my father,” he said. “But, as he is King, there is a degree of separation between him and other warriors.”

He likely suffers for it, she nearly said, but bit her tongue. “I’m sure he finds ways,” she said. “I have felt his fury. When you are aware of your own, its quirks and how to mould it, you can sense another’s fury. He has it well under control, and directed.”

“He should,” Anduin said. “He’s... very experienced.”

“I imagine so.”

They were silent a moment before Anduin smiled and stood, holding his hand out to her. She took it and stood. His hand felt a bit cold - but perhaps she was merely overly warm. “I think I’ve kept you long enough. It was wonderful to talk to you, Luciana.”

“And you, Prince.” She bowed her head briefly and released his hand.

“I look forward to our next meeting,” he said. “I hope the rest of your leave is enjoyable.”

“Thank you, Prince.” She offered a smile and he returned it warmly.

“Do you need a guard to guide you?” he asked as they moved to the door.

“No, I can find my way back down. Thank you.”

The guards didn’t even glance at her as she passed, so dedicated were they to their positions as indomitable guardians. Only the best could become Royal Guards, and it showed in their demeanor.

She passed through the Keep unhindered. Someone must have alerted her aunt that her visit was over, as Talia met her in the main hall as she made to leave.

“Luciana. How did it go?”

“Fine, I assume. He asked about my squadron, my new sword,” she said, resting her hand on its pommel. It felt like a practiced gesture and she left it there as she and Talia left the Keep. Going down the stairs was much easier. “We ate hors d’oeuvres and drank rosewater lemonade.”

“And no mention of anything political?” Talia asked. “No talk of the rumours of your Captain showing favouritism in your promotion, or the suspicious timing of Hanmoor’s injury?”

“None at all. I’ve heard them. They’re reaching far for it. I’ve served four tours - that’s a normal time for a Knight to move to Knight Lieutenant, and I’ve also been awarded White Stars. A near-death in service of the army would certainly put me a cut above other Knights, and I have three on record.”

“It’s fine,” Talia sighed. “The rumours will pass. As you said, they’re reaching for it. It would be favouritism of another kind if they waited any longer to promote you. Knight is easier than Knight Lieutenant, after all.”

“True enough. Would you like to get something for lunch?”

“Didn’t you eat with the Prince?”

“I’m a warrior, Aunty. I’m almost always hungry. Feel my palm.”

“You’re burning!”

“My metabolism is much faster than a regular person’s would be. Body heat is up, blood pressure is up, heart rate is down but rises easily. And a higher caloric intake is needed even if I spend the whole day asleep.”

“Wow. I had no idea.”

Luciana shrugged. “Would you like to get lunch?”

“Sure. The Blue Recluse? They have their terrace out, it’s lovely.”

“Sounds good.”

Luciana spent the last day with her sisters, wandering the Trade District and watching street performers and buying trinkets and treats. Normally two young Ladies could not walk through unmolested - traders and merchants would reel them in with fast words and high prices marketed as low ones, and being young and Noble was always a danger. But, with Luciana walking between them, they were giving a wide enough berth that the girls could explore the delights the Merchant Square had to offer.

She bid her siblings farewell at 7 o’clock, and made her way to the docks alone. She left everything in her chambers in the manor save for her new sword. It was a longsword designed for either one-handed or two-handed use, and though it seemed light and more ceremonial than anything, she could feel the strength in its spine and longed to test it in true battle.

The ship set off at 9 o’clock, when the Cathedral bell tolled. She was comfortably situated in her room in the belly of the boat when she felt it start to move. Lying on her back on the small cot, her belongings safely stowed away, she relaxed for the night.


	9. Shot Through the Hart

Luciana spent another three months with her soldiers. They had acclimated to each other, fit together like a puzzle under her leadership, and even the introduction of a new Knight for the 50th squadron, now named Grayson squadron, couldn’t rock their boat. He was a smart young man, nervous as she had been when she was fresh out of the Academy. She sat him down and they had a chat over wine, and some of the tension left him, as a result also leaving his squadron.

113th Company had been deployed to a newly-erected outpost in the forests surrounding the Arathi Basin. The old one had been destroyed some time ago, and the Commander wanted to see the new one last a bit longer.

When they arrived, thirty-five fine soldiers and a promising young Knight Lieutenant, the Darnassian sentinels stationed there had been relieved. They had been sent much-needed reinforcements - orcs from the nearby Horde encampment had been snapping at their gates for a week.

“They are growing bold, Knight Lieutenant,” the sentinel in charge told her over the command table. “Each night we see their eyes in the forest, their axes glinting under the moon’s gaze. I fear they will attack soon.”

“How many do you see any given night?”

“Five to ten,” the sentinel replied. “Never fewer. The most we’ve seen was fifteen, but it seems rare that they send so many for a mere harassment.”

“I will set up rotational patrols with my soldiers,” Luciana said. “Each squadron will take a night and patrol the outlying forests. Their scouts will be given mounts, so that if the numbers exceed what the squadron can handle the scout can quickly send for reinforcements.”

“A good plan,” the sentinel agreed. “We will give your scouts nightsabers. They are faster over this terrain than your horses.”

“I appreciate it.” Luciana nodded in thanks.

They were at the outpost for two months when the attack came. Luciana had a suspicion that the orcs attacked with greater force than expected on her night because they knew she was the Knight Lieutenant. Her group consisted of nine people including herself, well-trained and used to combat. But when a spear thudded into the nightsaber, cutting off the potential for fast reinforcement, she called a retreat to the nearby cave. The sentinels had explored it, found no valuable resources, and had marked it on their maps some time ago. The only interesting thing about the cave was its winding tunnels - tunnels Luciana planned on using when over twenty orcs showed up, roaring challenges in their native tongue.

“To the cave!” she yelled, making sure Enaeon was in the center of the group. “To the cave! Healer circle! To the cave!” Healer circle was a term used to tell soldiers men to surround any healers present, protecting them. They all knew that without a healer, any fight would quickly become hopeless.

They holed up in the cave, the orcs laughing and harrying them from the back and sides. It seemed they wanted to trap them. “Hold the mouth! Watch the rear!” Luciana ordered. “Devon,” she said quietly. “Scout into the cave. Make sure there’s not any surprises waiting for us.”

“Aye.” He disappeared into the shadows, sneaking in on leather-clad feet in silence.

Some of the orcs, sneering and impatient, darted forward to engage the squadron despite their leader roaring what Luciana assumed was a negative response. Three orcs fell to her soldiers and their quick blades, and the orcs took up positions around the mouth, preventing escape. Luciana’s chest felt tight, and she fought down the urge to release her fury and berserk.

Devon returned after a tense half hour. “Nothing in here,” he told her. “Just some rats and a cave spider. I dispatched it.”

“Good work,” she said. “There’s no way you can sneak out past the orcs, though. We’re alone on this, boys.”

“Looks like a fair fight,” Kain said with a wide grin.

“I am prepared for a long night,” Enaeon said, indicating his satchel. He must have taken extra mana potions with him.

“They’re going to rush us,” Luciana murmured. “Not now, but soon. Devon, there a place in there we can bottleneck them?”

“I know the perfect spot.”

“Kain, Lawrence, go with him.” The three left, uneasy. Luciana waited ten or so minutes. “Christopher, Daniel,” she ordered when Devon returned. And then she sent Enaeon, leaving only her and Lars. Finally, when Devon returned again, she grimaced. “We need to move fast. Once they realise what we’re doing they’re going to charge in.”

“C’mon.” Devon led them through the cave, quickly, and warned of the low roof coming up. They ducked, and Luciana smiled at the thought of an orc crashing his head into it in his rush to get to them.

“Good spot,” Luciana commented. “Enaeon, to the back. Devon, go back out and watch for the charge. Come back in when they start to move. Draw your weapons,” she ordered, and all but Enaeon and Devon drew their swords. Enaeon instead took his book of prayers in hand, and Luciana felt a familiar blessing trickle down her back. Devon palmed his daggers and snuck back out of the chamber.

The waiting was hell on her men, she could tell. “Easy,” she murmured. “Come daylight the sentinels will send for us and we’ll have our reinforcements. Easy, boys.”  
She wished she had worn her pocket watch. As it was, it felt like several hours had passed when Devon rushed back into sight. “They’re coming,” he said, ducking between Lars and Daniel. “Their leader, a big bastard, he’s ordered the charge.” Devon, like most scouts, knew some orcish. It served them well.

“Get ready, boys,” Luciana said. “We’re gonna kill some more orcs.”

“Always with the fucking caves,” Daniel grumbled.

“Sh.” The sharp sound from Luciana silenced them, just in time to hear the roar of twenty-odd orcs echo through the caverns. Some dust fell from the ceiling as the orcs charged into the caves. “Victory!” Luciana roared in return, her fury rearing up and screaming its rage. The first orc, eager, fell to her hand. Her blade stabbed through his leather-clad chest like he was water, and blood gurgled in his throat as he fell. Another orc took his place, and the fight began.

The orcs, however eager they were for bloodshed, were seasoned warriors and slowly drew the squadron out of their bottleneck. Before long they were surrounded and Luciana could see Devon sliding between his friends to stab at his enemies. She couldn’t focus on him while two orcs, a male and a female, were viciously trying to separate her arms and legs from her torso.

A cry alerted her to their first injury. “The Light blesses you!” Enaeon said, his voice ringing loud and true in the cavern as he healed the soldier. This made him a target.  
“Healer circle! Keep formation!” Luciana shouted. “Protect the healer!”

Devon let out a cry and she knocked her attackers back with a wide swing. She took the second it awarded her to glance over at her scout. An orcish axe was buried halfway into his stomach. Luciana felt her fury shudder through her, ripping out of its leash and she growled lowly, more beast than human.

“Berserk!” Enaeon warned, and her men scattered as she snarled, and then bellowed a wordless challenge. Her pulse pounded in her ears and sounds became muted - all signs of her impending berserk fury. She let it wash over her, feeling the strength return to her limbs. It sparked along her skin and raised gooseflesh along her arms and legs. Plate armour was heavy and could weigh down even an experienced soldier, but with her fury boiling her blood and coursing through her limbs, she didn’t feel the weight at all.

She was faster than the orcs could have possibly expected, and angrier than any of them could imagine. She swept through their ranks and her sword sang and spattered blood on the cavern walls. She saw her men, recognized them and didn’t strike at them, but she wasn’t concerned with their fights. She wanted to rip, tear, destroy everything, crush with her hands and bite at exposed throats. When the last orc fell, she cast about her for more enemies, more things to break.

“Luciana,” Enaeon said calmly, and the Light tickled her fingers, sparking up her arms. Blood ran from wounds along her shoulders and back. An orc with a claw weapon had slashed at her face, flaying open the flesh and leaving three deep wounds along her chin and neck that bled profusely. It had cut into the bone, and she barely felt a dull ache that throbbed through her skull. “Luciana,” Enaeon repeated, and she came back to herself somewhat, blinking rapidly, panting. She turned to face him.

“Sound off,” she managed to say through her damaged jaw. “Luciana.”

“Enaeon.”

“Daniel.”

“K-Kain.”

“Lawrence.”

“Lars.”

“Christopher.”

“... George? Devon?” Luciana said, turning fully. “Sound off.”

“... George,” he wheezed. He was laid out on the ground, his neck purpling. An orc had likely tried to strangle him.

“Devon. Scout,” Luciana growled. “Sound off.”

There was no answer. She looked around, searching for him.

“He’s...” Kain looked up. “He’s dead, Luce.”

Her eyes flicked down, into the shadows of the chamber behind them. Devon appeared to have retreated, leaving a trail of thick blood on the ground. He was not moving. “Enaeon,” she said dully. The draenei hurried over, stepping around the blood. His hooves clattered against loose stones. He kneeled down, checked for a pulse, for signs of life.

“He is dead,” he reported. “I’m sorry. I tried to heal him. It appears it wasn’t enough.”

She was silent a moment. “Regroup in the bottleneck,” she ordered. “Set his body aside, lay it flat. Rigor mortis will set in before we get out of here. Any injuries? To the healer.”  
George raised his hand and smiled grimly. Kain limped over to Enaeon, and Daniel’s face was quickly swelling past a broken nose and a black eye.

Luciana took up a position in the bottleneck. She was weak, her limbs shook, and she could feel her heart trying to leap up her throat. She closed her eyes, felt herself swaying, and concentrated. She had a state she entered when she brought her fury to bear. She had a state she entered when she meditating. If she could overlay them, combine them...

Her breathing slowed, and her fury started to abate. She pictured Devon, her friend, with an axe buried in his side, saw his face full of surprise, shock. Her anger roiled in her gut and she brought it back up. Her calm started to abate and she breathed slowly, bringing it back. It was slow work, but in time the two forces in her were in tandem, and she opened her eyes. They had adjusted somewhat to the dark, and she waited patiently, silently, for any more enemies to appear.

They did. The orcs had sent more warriors when their first force did not return. Luciana counted ten and lay about her with her sword, silent in her calm fury. Blood poured into her mouth when she bit at the female orc who tried to grab her in a chokehold. She howled in pain, clutching her arm. It was missing a chunk, one that Luciana spat out before leaping forward, stabbing down with her blade. It was over too soon for her liking, but she calmed herself, keeping her fury alive and well, and retook her place at the mouth of the chamber. Enaeon sent healing spells into her back and leg, and she waited.

No more orcs appeared after that, but sentinels did. “Search the cavern,” a night elf could be heard, and soon, two sentinels and their sharp glowing eyes spotted Luciana.

“Knight Lieutenant!” one gasped.

“Injured in the chamber,” she said, her voice rough with her anger. “One dead.” Feeling the danger abate with the arrival of the sentinels, she forced her fury back down, silencing its howls and feeling exhaustion weigh her down. Her legs felt like lead, her arms tired and weak, her neck and back stiff. She sheathed her sword, turned to watch her men for a moment. “Enaeon,” she said, feeling out of breath. She nearly collapsed, leaning against the wall and sliding down to her knees. Her armour scraped and shrieked against the stone. She felt Enaeon’s enormous plated hands on her face and her arm, and she fainted from sheer exhaustion.

Luciana woke slowly, painfully, which was unusual. Memories of the night spent in the cave quickly returned to her and she breathed in deeply, trying to wake faster. She sat up, her back stiff and painful, and looked around. She was a large medical tent, along with another human and a night elf. Kain, she identified. His leg was bandaged heavily and elevated with a sling. He was fast asleep.

“Knight Lieutenant. Please, relax.” A night elf, a druid, she identified. His voice was melodious, soothing, and she felt herself ease up. “You are heavily injured. Fighting for so long on your wounds only worsened them.”

“How bad?” she asked quietly as he approached. Healing magic brushed down her skin. It felt like she was walking through leafy underbrush, the tendrils of magic light and cool, almost playful.

“Your face and neck will scar,” he told her. “Your left arm will need to be rested for a week. It was nearly bisected down the middle.” He drew his finger down her bandaged arm, along the wound an orc had inflicted in the fight. “Your legs will need time to recover, as well, and your back will pain you for several more days if you rest. A week or more if you do not. You should avoid riding horseback for that time. You were close to death.”

“Understood,” she muttered. “The rest of my squadron?”

“Your soldier, Kain,” he said, gesturing. “His leg was shattered but we were able to fully heal it. Now he must rest it. He cannot walk for a week at the least. The rest are merely bruised and sore. Daniel’s nose has been reset and he is healing well. Enaeon is uninjured save a few bruises. Devon’s body has been prepared for transport to the main garrison and magic is keeping it from decomposing before burial. The Knight Captain has sent for its retrieval.”

“Fine. Good.” She sighed, feeling it painfully in her chest. “I... I need to lie back down.”

“Be at ease here, Knight Lieutenant. You are safe.”

They spent a week in the outpost. Luciana had meetings in the healing tent with some of the lead sentinels, and learned that the orcs had wisely decided to back off after losing so many to so few. They left when the healers said it was safe for the wounded to travel. Kain had a brace for his leg, which made riding a bit awkward, and he complained the whole way to the garrison. The rest of Luciana’s Company was sympathetic, but could only put up with so much.

“Is this the first time you lost a soldier?” Grayson asked her, his horse lined up next to hers.

“No. But this is the first time I lost a friend.”

“I wonder who they’ll send us,” Lars said. “I hear they’re bringing worgen into the army now, same way they’re doing the draenei.”

Luciana hummed noncommittally and fell silent. The rest respected her want for it. Only her Knights interrupted it with regular reports from their own scouts. The way was clear to the garrison, they reported, save for a small band of Horde adventurers they might encounter.

They did encounter the adventurers, but they were only four in number and didn’t bother the thirty-six - thirty-five Alliance soldiers marching by. Luciana watched them as she passed by - they were keeping their distance. She debated waving, but decided it might be seen as a taunt and simply nodded for whoever among them could see it. She could have sworn she saw the troll nod back.

They were welcomed back to the garrison with some fanfare, retainers and stable hands there to take their horses and packs and bring them to the med bay for further inspection. Knight Captain Servol was waiting with a scowl firmly in place.

“I received reports from the outpost,” he said when they were all comfortably situated with healers. “Knight Lieutenant, how were you so heavily injured when your men were minimally wounded, save your scout?”

“I kept my oath,” she said quietly. His face changed, showing his surprise.

“Ah. I see.” He nodded, once. “I expect a full report when you’re released from medical. Your soldiers have two days of rest unless otherwise ordered by a healer.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I’m sorry for you loss,” he muttered, patting her shoulder. “I know how it feels to lose a squadron mate.”

“Thank you, Sir. Could you send word to my family that I’m alright?”

“Of course.” He nodded, and when he left he left them all with strict orders to obey the healers.


	10. First Taste and the Game Continues

A week after the battle, there was an awards ceremony. “To Knight Lieutenant Luciana Amadeus,” Knight Captain Servol announced. “For her bravery in battle against a force three times her numbers, and a brush with death in battle against enemies of the Alliance, we award her with a White Heart. For her strategic planning and usage of terrain in battle that saved the lives of all her men, we award her with a Red Heart.”

He pinned the two new medals to her coat, adding to her previous White Hearts.

“To Devon Hart, we posthumously award the White Star, for bravely facing the enemy and falling in service of the Alliance.” He held up the medal, and brought it to his lips to kiss it as was tradition. “Go to the Light, Scout Hart. You’ve earned it.” Following the tradition he handed it to Luciana, who was Devon’s superior officer, and she kissed it as well before laying it on the folded Alliance standard that would be sent to Devon’s family along with a letter from her, a letter from the Captain, and one from the Commander. His veteran’s pension would be sent to them for many years, as well.

“To Enaeon Lightheart, for his efforts as a healer in battle against the enemy, who despite overwhelming odds kept his squadron alive, we award him the Blue Heart.” Knight Captain Servol turned to Enaeon, who waited patiently as the medal was pinned to his vest.

The ceremony ended after a short speech from the Captain about bravery in the face of death. Luciana and Enaeon joined the remains of their squadron, who wisely kept silent until they reached the tavern. It was the relaxation center for the garrison’s forces and had live music on weekends. Today, several dwarves were singing in their guttural native tongue. It sounded rowdy and fun but Luciana recognized the song. It was a dwarven funeral march, meant to recall the good things and honour the dead. They sang of goroglet, the grave-beer, poured onto the ground so that buried soldiers could also taste it. 

“I think we’ve all earned a bit of leave,” Lars sighed, slumped over his ale. “Especially you two.” He pointed to Luciana and Enaeon. “Luce, I mean this is the best way possible - but you about made me shit my pants when you started to fight.”

She shrugged.

“I mean, I know warriors can fight but damn. You were a straight-up demon. I mean, holy horseshit on a cracker. You were a fucking beast.”

“I was berserking,” she said mildly.

“I could tell.” He chugged his ale, and stood to get another. 

“Get me one, too!” Christopher said, tossing his empty mug.

“Get yer own!”

Luciana watched them bicker, feeling a small smile break onto her face. “I am sorry,” Enaeon murmured while the others were distracted.

“Blame’s not on you,” she promised, patting his blue hand. “Death is common in the army. We all know that, and Devon knew it.”

“I could have healed him,” Enaeon said. “But I did not concentrate on him.”

“If you had, someone else might have died. Maybe two people would have gone down, instead of one.” She sighed, and drank a bit of her ale. “Shit happens, Enaeon. It sucks, and sometimes it sucks hard. But it happens, it’s always gonna happen. You just gotta pick yourself and keep marching. No matter how much it hurts.”

They drank and celebrated the night away. It was tradition in Stormwind to mourn the dead, but in the army, they were celebrated. It was easier to keep moving if you didn't walk over a broken bridge.

Luciana was sent on leave with the rest of her squadron the following week. They were given a day’s warning, in the middle of a drill. “When you come back,” her Captain said. “You’ll have a new scout. Gilneas is voluntarily entering in the same integration program as the Exodar. Your new scout will be a worgen.”

“Some were thinking that might be the case,” she said. “As long as they can do their job.”

“I’ll make sure of it.”

Enaeon took ship with them to Stormwind and took a portal to the Exodar for his leave. They each were given four days starting on a Sunday. The rest of the Company was under command of its three Knights until Luciana returned, with the Captain watching over them with keen eyes.

She had sent word ahead, and Bannister was once again waiting for her at the docks. “Welcome home,” he said, hugging her tightly. “I heard about your scout. I’m sorry.”

“I am too,” she mumbled against his chest before he released her. She waved to some of her men as they dispersed.

“That’s your draenei?” he asked, eyes wide.

“Yeah. Enaeon. He saved our asses, again.”

“But not your scout.”

“My scout was nearly cut in half at the waist. Not many could salvage that.”

“Ouch.” Bannister winced in sympathy. “Well, come on. Let’s go wander for a bit.”

They did wander, and Luciana didn’t speak much. Bannister often threw her worried looks, but she didn’t respond to them except to mumble a comment about something they passed, or someone she recognized.

They ate at the Pig and Whistle, a lively place with lively music that lifted Luciana’s spirits somewhat. People around her suffered as well - it was likely they’d lost people, too, but they still had it in them to laugh and dance. She couldn’t yet, but it would come back to her. Soon, she hoped. She didn’t like worrying her brother. He remembered all too well how silent she had been as a child, when her mother had tried to cut the warrior out of her.

She spent the night in the manor, but sometime in the early morning she snapped awake, heart beating wildly. A nightmare, she surmised, and was glad she couldn’t quite recall what it had featured.

The grounds were silent and she walked them at a relaxed pace, the family’s grey mastiff at her side. Penny had taken to her, it seemed, and accompanied her to bed and around the manor. The mastiff was a Gilnean breed, intelligent, a bit lazy, and keen to the emotions of their human companions. Grey mastiffs tended to be better suited to the hunt than their brown-coated counterparts. Luciana watched as Penny’s ears swiveled and his nose worked constantly.

When the sun rose she returned to her chambers and had a bath drawn. She soaked for a while, trying to relax. Penny positioned himself to the side of her tub, nosing at Luciana’s hand until it was on the top of his head. She smiled and relaxed, a cloth over her tired, dry eyes.

She ate breakfast with her family, silent as they chattered. She only spoke when Bannister asked about her new medals. “A White Heart, again, for facing death,” she told him. “And a Red Heart for strategy that resulted in victory when there should have been a defeat.”

“For sheer dumb luck,” Desmond quipped, and she forced a smile onto her face for his efforts.

She had her aunt send word to the Keep that she was available today and tomorrow for the Prince, and also for the King should he wish to spar. Talia phrased it delicately, indicating rather than outright saying that Luciana was willing to get into a physical fight with their King. That wouldn’t have sounded quite as friendly as Luciana meant. They quickly received a reply that said the King eagerly awaited Luciana’s presence at the Keep.

Luciana dressed with Talia’s advice, wearing her comfortable brown leather boots, black trousers that bunched slightly before tucking into the boots, and a short blue tunic with three-quarter sleeves. She wore over that a black double-breasted silk vest. She cinched it at the waist with a white belt, looping her sword sheath onto it. She was in mourning, the belt said discreetly. She was mourning her fallen squadron mate. At Talia’s suggestion, she wore her insignia and medals on her vest.

They rode on horses to the keep, as Luciana did not want to be bothered on the way there. They left the horses with royal stable hands and walked up the familiar steps at a leisurely pace. Luciana had a pack with her that contained her favourite leather sparring armour, and allowed a servant to hold onto it until she needed it. The King waited for them in the doorway to the library. He was grinning, which seemed odd on his usually stern face, and was not wearing his full armour, instead kitted in dark leathers.

“There you are,” he said, reaching out to throw an arm over Luciana’s shoulders. Talia occupied herself with the Seneschal to schedule Luciana’s visit with the Prince the following day. She bid Luciana farewell with a wave as the Knight walked away with the King. “I was thinking you might have forgotten about our spar.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” she replied with an edge of humour. The King chuckled.

“I heard about your scout. I know how hard it is,” he said. “Gilneas has sent us nearly entirety of their Royal Hunters to serve as a scouting corps. Your new scout will be a worgen seasoned in the highlands.”

“As long as they can fulfill their duties,” Luciana said.

“Oh, they will. The servant who took your bag has brought it to the private training grounds behind the Keep. We can either go without an audience or with. It’s up to you.”

“I don’t mind either.”

“Then I’ll call up the people who made me swear to let them watch.” He smiled, patted her shoulder, and left her in front of a door that led out to the grounds. She went outside, pacing and figuring out what was what. There was a small building equipped with showers and a private changing room with six lockers. On the door, sign hung that said WARRIOR HOUSE. NAKED WARRIORS INSIDE. BEWARE THE TOWEL WHIPS.

Her bag was on a bench inside, and she changed into her sparring gear, leaving her sword with her clothes in a locker. She fiddled with it, figured out how to set a combination, and locked her things away.

She exited and turned the corner to find a small gathering of people. A handful nobles she recognized from other Houses, her aunt Talia, King Greymane and two of his own courtiers flanking him, several servants there with refreshments, a groundskeeper, a warrior trainer, the King, Prince Anduin, a couple of pugs, and two priests. Healers, likely.  
“And here is our guest of honour!” the King announced from where he stood next to a weapons rack. “You prefer one handed or two?” he asked.

“Two.”

He tossed her a blunted claymore. “Test the balance,” he suggested as he tried out a broadsword. “I’d wield Shalamayne but I’m afraid I might accidently cut the entire sparring ring in half,” he joked.

“You still wouldn’t hit me.”

He whipped his head around to look at her in surprise, and laughed openly. “We’ll see about that, Knight Lieutenant. I’ve got years on you.”

“Yes, I can see that,” she replied, smirking. She had her weapon of choice in hand and the King was chuckling as they both entered the ring.

“Warm up round?” he suggested, and she agreed. They danced around each other, occasionally meeting in the middle with quick, testing strikes. She could see his years of experience. He was a dangerous foe, fast on his feet and faster with his thoughts. She could only predict about half of his movements, and she realized after only a few moments that there was no way she could win against him in a fair fight. Likely not even in an unfair fight. Still, she felt her fury lift its head like a wolf testing a scent-laden breeze. The King’s own beast was likely stirring, as well.

The warrior trainer took over then. “A fair fight between the King and the Knight Lieutenant,” he said. “A spar, to test their abilities as warriors. You both have chosen your weapons. Are they what you will wield?”

“Yes,” Luciana said shortly.

“Yes,” the King agreed.

“Stay in the ring marked on the ground. If you leave it or are thrown out, your opponent will gain a point. If you strike what would be a mortal blow you will gain a point. If you disable or force a yield from your opponent, you will gain a point. Disarming does not gain a point. Any type of blow is allowed, including kicks, punches, head butts, palm strikes, blade strikes, slaps, scratches, bites, and taunts. On my mark, the fight will begin. First to ten points wins the bout.” He raised his hand, and Luciana felt a shiver run down her back as she loosened the leash. “Mark!”

The King immediately struck, moving almost too fast for her to respond. She felt a snarl rip through her throat and she whirled around, deflecting his blade and spinning like a dancer to the side of the ring. He responded by turning on his heel and striking at her side, which she blocked with the flat of her blade braced against her shoulder. Smiling, the King tried to step back, but she went low and darted forward, slamming her other shoulder into his stomach. He retreated as she brought her blade up to mock a killing blow to his vital organs but missed, and she felt a toothy grin climb onto her face to match the one the King already wore.

They circled, and met in the middle. The King’s blade struck downward and she deflected the force from below with her sword, holding it in one hand while she spun on her heel, whipping it around to smack into his unprotected side. “Point to Knight Lieutenant!” the warrior trainer called, his eyes picking out the spot where her sword had struck. If it had been a true fight, she would have severed several important blood vessels and an organ, and the King would have died in minutes.

The king retaliated by pushing her back, undaunted by the first point going to her. He was faster now, and she could barely keep up. Her intelligence was her best feature, even in the midst of a battle-fed fury, and she quickly devised a strategy, using a move a monk had taught her. She ducked and rolled, springing to her feet with her sword up to bear. The King struck again from above and she was ready, dodging to the left and smacking his spine with the flat of her blade. “Point to Knight Lieutenant,” the warrior trainer called with an amused smile. “Point to King,” he said as the King’s blade came up to rest again the side of her head for a moment. They separated, and circled again.

“You’re good,” the King praised. “A bit of monk training?”

“I’ve been around,” she replied.

He got another point when he caught her with the tip of his blade on her neck, nicking it. She ignored the blood that leaked out, and garnered another point when she surprised the King. She jumped and spun, her foot nearly striking the side of his head, and when he stumbled back, she landed and stabbed forward with both hands on the hilt. The tip of the sword came to rest at his stomach again, and he grinned down at her. It was a feral expression, all teeth.

He pulled ahead with four more points. She noted that though he often left his sides open, he was so fast it hardly mattered. He was six to her three, and when he reached seven, she switched tactics, holding her blade in a backwards grip. He frowned, obviously not familiar with her stance, and she managed to get two more points while taking advantage of his confusion. He was fast, but she was unpredictable, using techniques she had seen rogues, monks, and druids use. She took them and bastardized them, making them unrecognizable.

“Points?” the King called, panting.

“Nine to King, six to Knight Lieutenant,” the warrior trainer answered, smiling in satisfaction. The crowd of spectators had grown, but neither combatant had really paid it any heed. Luciana hadn’t even noticed, so lost was she in the haze of battle. Her blood was pounding in her veins and she panted, feeling hot and buzzing with energy. The King looked to be in a similar situation, grinning rabidly at her.

“You’re good,” he said. “I can see why they made you Lieutenant.”

“There isn’t any way I can match up to your skill and speed, Sire,” she responded. “Though I hope one day I can come close.”

“Fight hard and you just might.”

They met again in the center of the ring, the King’s sword a blur in the air as it harried at her defenses. She was furious, energized, and met each thrust and swing with a parry or block. She was slowly backed up to the edge of the ring, and when the King thought he had her, she dropped her blade. His surprise showed but he didn’t slow. It didn’t matter because she hadn’t, either, and she stepped, stepped, and threw him to the ground outside the ring with a monk’s hip throw. He grunted when he hit the ground, quickly rolling and rising to his feet. “Point to Knight Lieutenant,” was called, and she had to hurry to regain her weapon because the King didn’t pause, re-entering the ring right before bringing his blade back up to bear.

His last point came when he used his weight to overwhelm her, pushing down on their joined blades until she hit her knees. He bore down on her, and she spent a precious few seconds trying to think of a way out. She wasn’t in a position to kick out at his legs, there was no way she could overpower him unless some miracle occurred, and her blade was well and truly trapped. “Yield,” she choked, and his weight left her immediately as he backed up.

“Point to King. The King wins the bout ten to seven,” the warrior trainer called. Her arms shook with strain, and both warriors were panting. The King offered his hand and she accepted with a grateful smile, letting him pull her back to her feet. He already had the leash back on his beast, but hers took a bit of wrestling.

“You fight well,” the King said. “You use your intelligence to your advantage.”

“I’ve seen all manners of fighting styles, Sire,” she said. “I see no reason not to learn from them.”

“And you have. I can only imagine what you will be like in five, ten years.”

“Perhaps you will, if a spar could be arranged,” she said, handing off her practice blade. She was startled, and managed to hide it, when the crowds started to clap and cheer.

“Well fought!” King Greymane called. “I see why Stormwind’s warriors are so feared.”

“You see it only now?” the King quipped, going to join the crowds. Sweaty and panting, he seemed to blend in seamlessly with them. “What about that last fight, when we were facing down an entire...”

“You can wash off in the lockers,” the warrior trainer told her. “The King will keep them occupied for a while.”

“Thanks,” she said.

“You need a healer?”

“No, it’s fine.” She had forgotten about her neck wound. Looking down, she saw that it had bled profusely. “I’ve had worse.”

“I can see that.” He tapped his chin, indicating her new scars, and smiled grimly. “Arathi?”

“Mm. Almost through my fifth tour there.”

“Rough place.”

“Yeah.”

The moment she was in the changing room she stripped off her leathers and tossed them aside, feeling mucky and stiff. She ignored the music player in the corner for the moment. Her priority was washing the sweat from her skin and the dust out of her mouth. The showers were warm, and she wished they were cold. Her blood still ran hot. She could feel her pulse start to pound in her crotch and heard her blood rushing in her ears.

When she felt sufficiently washed of sweat and dust, she stepped out of the showers naked, toweling off her body and her short hair. She wasn’t as stiff as before, perhaps thanks to the warm water, and stretched her sore arms. Luciana put on her pants, but didn’t really feel like putting the rest on quite yet. She felt damp, still, and dressing while damp was unpleasant.

Someone entered the building, and she turned expecting the warrior trainer or perhaps her aunt. Instead, the Prince paused in front of the closed door, staring. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, looking away politely. It was a bit dark, but she thought she could see him blushing. “I expected you to be dressed already. I... May I see to your wound?” he asked, looking at her.

“Sure.” She tilted her head up, indicating that he could approach. She thought to cover herself for his benefit, but decided against it. There was a sign that warned of naked warriors. He should have known better. 

Anduin was a bit taller than her, just over six feet if she had to guess. Even without shoes, she stood at five feet and eight inches. She had grown a bit more while in the basin. She hoped she would stop soon. There was only so much of a hem in her trousers that could be let out.

The Prince laid his hands on either side of her neck and she fought down her beast. It was her fury but it was also her arousal, anything that hot blood could bring forth. She breathed slowly through her nose, ignoring the coolness of the Prince’s hands on her fevered skin. She tried to ignore the feeling of the Light in her flesh, familiar and welcoming, brushing delicately against her skin like the fingertips of a hesitant Prince who was much too familiar with her-

She was relieved when he stepped back. “Thank you,” she said, proud of how even her voice sounded. “I expect the crowds outside will be looking for you.”

“I gave an excuse,” he said, shrugging. “I’ve got a few minutes, if you have any other wounds?”

“No. Thank you,” she added hurriedly, turning to face the narrow table that held the rest of her clothes. “You should go,” she said. She could almost feel his hurt, and grimaced. “I mean only that you should go ahead,” she corrected. “I will be out shortly.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. “Your skin is... overly warm,” he said lamely. “Are you ill?”

“No,” she told him. “It’s nothing to worry about.” He reached out, put a hand on her shoulder, and she inhaled sharply through her nose. “You really should go,” she ground.

“You don’t sound well,” he said, concern colouring his voice. “Are you sure I...?”

“Prince, you need to leave.”

He withdrew his hand, taken aback. “I’m sorry if I was too forward,” he started.

“It’s not you. But you need to leave.” Her heart was quickening, she could feel it between her legs and in her gut, and heat pooled there. She kept her eyes closed, trying to keep her breathing even. Usually when this happened, a cold shower or a dunk in the river was fine. With her squadron, she could smother it with her status as Officer, ignore it until it faded. It always did, in time. It didn’t even happen all that often, but after an intense fight with a seasoned warrior... And then, an overly concerned Prince with cool hands... “Now,” she growled, fingers tightening on the table. She knew what happened when she lost control over her fury. She didn’t want to know what would happen when she lost control over this part of the beast. It was better to be rude to the Prince than risk frightening him.

“You’re worrying me,” the Prince murmured. “You’re feverish, you’re shaking...” and indeed, she was trembling slightly. “Why do you want me to leave? I will, but I’d like to know. If you’re sick...”

“You need to leave because a warrior has more than fury when their blood runs hot,” she ground out.

It took him a moment, but the Prince had his father’s intelligence. “Oh,” he said simply. “I... I see.”

He still didn’t leave. “What?” she growled lowly, wishing he would.

“Ah.” His usual assured manner seemed to have deserted him. “Well. I... That is. I don’t mind. I wouldn’t mind if...”

“You don’t know what I’d do,” she said lowly. “I can lose control over my fury. I can lose control over this. Please, Prince Anduin. Leave before I hurt you.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me,” he mumbled. He sounded sure, but she wasn’t.

“Not all hurt is a physical wound.”

“You wouldn’t do that,” he said. “I know you wouldn’t. Luciana,” he said. Her name sounded like a prayer coming from him. Maybe everything did - he was a priest. “If you did want... That is, I wouldn’t...” He was fumbling. She tried one more time.

“Please,” she breathed. “Leave.” She was begging. She felt loose, foggy. She knew the feeling. When it came in battle, she ended up berserking. “Please,” she tried once more.

“I wouldn’t mind if you kissed me,” the Prince finally said. 

She opened her eyes, staring down at the table incredulously. It showed in her voice. “You think I could stop at a kiss?” she said.

“If I asked you to,” the Prince said. “I know you would.”

His hand came to rest on the back of her shoulder. She turned, quickly, reaching up to slip her fingers into the hair at the base of his head, pulling him down. Her other hand spread over his lower back, pulling him taught against her, and his lips were cool, his mouth warm under hers. She tilted his head, feeling as though she was consuming him, swallowing the noise of surprise he made, and then the noise of pleasure. His hands, obviously, weren’t sure where to go, and ended up on her waist, barely touching her.  
She wanted to press up to him, against the floor, the wall, feel his heart beating against her chest. Her pulse pounded through her crotch, behind her eardrums. When his back hit the wall, his clothes whispering against it when his knees trembled weakly, she thought, _only a kiss. Only a kiss. Don’t. Don’t do that. Don’t touch him. Only a kiss. Pull it back. Pull it back. Pull it back. Pull it back. Pull it back. Pull it back. Pull it back._

Slowly, hesitantly, she released him, first her hand in his hair, then her mouth, licking her lips and breathing in through her nose. She took her hands back, stepped away, and watched as he stared at her wide-eyed, hands braced on the wall. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, and touched his lips. “Oh,” he said simply. She watched him, a few paces between them. “I should... is there a mirror?”

“In the locker room,” she said, nodding to the door. He hurried in, and she sighed, turning back to the narrow table. Absently, she dressed, first putting on her breast band, her socks, her boots, her tunic. She buttoned her vest last with practiced movements, and checked her watch again. Ten minutes in the shower, five minutes to dress, six minutes kissing the Prince. I fucked up. “Fuck,” she spat under her breath, feeling the urge to break the table under her palms and fighting it down. She had already done too much damage - no need to do more. She cinched her tunic with her white belt, and the Prince exited the locker room. His clothes and hair were straightened out and the blush was gone from his cheeks. His normal calm, princely demeanor was firmly in place.

“How I am?” he asked.

“Like usual,” she said.

“Good.” He nodded, and paused, opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. Finally, he spoke. “I won’t tell anyone, if you don’t want me to,” he said. “Not even Father.”

“I think he should know,” she said. “I apologize for losing control and overstepping my bounds. I have no excuse.”

“I asked you to,” the Prince reasoned.

“There is no excuse,” she told him. “I understand that my actions will have consequences and I accept full responsibility. Please tell the King that if he wishes to annul the engagement my party will concede.”

“I don’t have to tell him.” By his expression, the Prince understood now what he had caused, and what she had done. He should have known better - he would know the consequences, but still he had pushed her. He was eighteen, she reminded herself. Still young, with room for foolishness. But she didn’t have room for any of it.

“You do,” Luciana said firmly. “You are the Prince and I am a scion of Amadeus and Knight Lieutenant. I willingly stepped over the line.”

“What about a warrior’s hot blood?” he asked. “You said a warrior can lose control.”

“I have no excuse. It’s my duty as a warrior to keep control. I should have done better.”

“He... might understand,” Anduin tried.

“Whether he will or not is irrelevant. If you don’t tell him I will.”

“I’ll tell him, later,” Anduin sighed. “This is as much my fault as it is yours.”

“I should have refused,” she said, leaving the building first. Anduin came out a minute later, while she was talking to the warrior trainer. Not even her aunt noticed anything wrong with her, though she felt like perhaps the warrior trainer could tell she was suffering.

“You don’t have to stay long,” the man said quietly with a knowing look.

“I have my duties,” Luciana replied. “But thank you.”

Talia had advised her to make nice with the other people there, and she ended up discussing plains battle strategies with King Greymane’s men. She described a battle where a flanking manoeuvre had gone awry, but her Knight Lieutenant of the time had salvaged it by gathering his men in a circle with the scouts and the healers in the centre. “A healer circle, we call it,” she said. “The healers keep an eye on the soldiers surrounding them, while the scouts call out when to shift and what direction. When they call left, everyone moves to take the place of the person to their left, throwing the enemy off balance. Usually the foe would fall within moments to a blade they didn’t expect. When the scouts see someone struggling with their foe, they might call it out to the next person in line.”

“Brilliant move,” one man said.

“Brilliant Lieutenant. What was his name?”

“He is now a Knight Captain. Leon Servol,” she said. “Of the 4th Brigade.”

“I should like to meet him one day,” the other Gilnean said.

Talia eventually pulled her away, stating that it was time they returned to the manor. She made excuses, and had the stable hands bring up their horses. Talia seemed in a hurry, and when they were in the Cathedral Square she pulled at the reins of Luciana’s horse, bringing them into a secluded corner. “What happened?” she hissed. “Something happened, don’t tell me it didn’t. Did the Prince say something? Are you injured?”

“The Prince followed me into the changing rooms,” she replied quietly, calming her horse. It was tossing its head in complaint at the rough tug of the reins. “He wanted to look at my neck wound. I was still half-undressed and I know you don’t understand when I talk about a warrior’s blood, but it was pounding.”

“What happened?” Talia asked, deceptively calmed.

“He asked me to kiss him. I did.”

“That was a mistake,” Talia said immediately.

“I know it was. I should have kept better control over myself.”

“He’s going to tell the King.”

“I told him to. I know he will. I told him I overstepped my bounds and accept full responsibility.”

“I need to know exactly what you said,” Talia told her, looking around for eavesdroppers. “As close as you can to the original words.”

“I understand that my actions will have consequences and I accept full responsibility. Please tell the King that if he wishes to annul the engagement my party will concede,” she started. “You are the Prince and whether or not I am a scion of Amadeus and Knight Lieutenant, I willingly stepped over the line. I have no excuse. It’s my duty as a warrior to keep control. I should have done better. I should have refused.”

Talia sighed explosively, rubbing her hands over her face. “Oh, Light, Luciana,” she groaned. “I’d rather you have found a whore.”

“He thinks his father will understand. It doesn’t matter if he does or not. I know I made a mistake,” she said. “I am two years his senior. I am a warrior while he is a priest. I am a Knight Lieutenant in his army,” she said. “It’s my responsibility to refuse. And I didn’t.”

“You said he asked you to?” Talia asked, straightening in the saddle. 

“I asked him to leave several times. He didn’t, stating he was worried about my feverish skin. He stumbled over his words, and said he wouldn’t mind if I kissed him. I warned him that I might lose control and hurt him and he did it anyway.”

Talia sighed quietly. “You know it doesn’t matter what he said or did.”

“I do. That’s why I said I take full responsibility.”

“Alright. I’ll... see what I can do. Don’t expect good news,” Talia warned. “Either the betrothal will be annulled, or people will demand you own up and make the betrothal a firm one. I think you’d prefer the first option but it’s really not a good one.”

“I’m aware of what it would do.”

“Alright. Let’s go. I need a drink.” Talia sighed again, and nudged her horse into a trot. Luciana followed. “You kids are going to be the death of me.”


	11. Good Dog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW child abuse, pedophilia, child death  
> A note: please remember that the story is from Luciana's point of view. Things that are important to her will linger and possibly rolled in like a dog in poo.

Talia told Bertrand about the situation, and no one else. It was agreed that it should be limited to a small circle of people until the King responded. In the meantime, Luciana locked herself in her room and read with Penny at the foot of her bed. Bannister had looked as though he wanted to ask after her, but wisely decided not to just yet.

Almost five hours passed before someone came to her room. Desmond opened her door suddenly, without even a knock. He looked worried, frustrated. “Lucy, have you seen Frederic?” he asked.

“No. Why?” He had panic in his voice and she responded immediately, standing and following him out of the room. Penny came with her, ears perked to her voice.

“We can’t find him. No one’s seen him for almost six hours. We thought... maybe he was just tucked away in the gardens. But we’ve searched the entire manor, twice, calling out for him. Nothing.”

She felt her chest tighten. “I will find him,” she said quietly. “Penny, come.” She patted her thigh and the dog obediently followed. “Desmond, get a horse ready.” Luciana led him to Frederic’s room, offering the boy’s pillow, his favourite stuffed bear, his dirty laundry, and finally the dog understood and sniffed everything in the room. Then, he set off through the manor. Luciana followed. Desmond was waiting with a horse at the gates.

“I hoped you wouldn’t need this,” he said. “He must be out in the city somewhere. We’ll continue to search the area around the grounds. Mother’s gone to alert the city guard.” He held the reins while Luciana mounted.

“Good.” Penny sped up and Luciana followed. They wound through the Cathedral Square, and with a sinking feeling she recognized the corner her aunt had pulled her into to discuss her kissing the Prince. “Oh, it’d better not be,” she muttered, seeing that a pattern was emerging. “It’d better fucking not be. Penny! Go! Go!” she urged. The dog, eager to please his chosen master, tucked his nose to the ground and followed a scent, occasionally trotting or even running to catch the next hint.

They went around the edge of the Cathedral Square, around the Dwarven, and she sent thanks to whomever and whatever could hear her that Frederic hadn’t been passed through the smoke and fog in the district.

Penny led her to the Old Town, down into its belly where thieves and criminals watched warily. “Penny, hold!” she said. The dog paused, looking up at her. She dismounted. “I’m willing to give two gold now and two gold after to whoever can look after my horse.”

An older man with a few missing teeth stepped up immediately. He had several knives and vials of poison on his person. “Aye, we’ll look after it. Fine beastie.” He indicated three younger men, perhaps his sons, and drew the horse out of the way, into the shadow of a decrepit shop. She handed one of the boys two coins.

“When I get it back safe I’ll give you the rest,” she said.

“Aye, Knight Lieutenant,” the boy said, nodding. 

“Penny, go!”

She followed the dog through the winding, narrow streets, dodging and shoving at people who got in her way. She felt sick when the dog slowed, and then stopped, backtracking to sniff at a pile of trash. “No.” She shook her head slowly, not wanting to know why the dog was sniffing that leather sack, but knowing she had to look. “No. No, no. Light, if you blessed us you wouldn’t let this...” She kneeled down, reaching out with shaking hands to push Penny away. The dog was whining incessantly. She barely heard it. She pulled the bag. “No. I lost one brother. Don’t... don’t make me lose another. Not Frederic.”

The bag stank of blood and piss and something she barely recognized. It tickled her brain, trying to place the smell. Inside the bag was an assembly of tiny body parts and clothes. Luciana was numb, not even feeling anger, when she reached in to pull out a little hand. Penny kept whining, pacing back and forth behind Luciana. A few people had followed her, and were watching. She didn’t care. She pulled out more parts - an arm, a leg, a foot, a shirt. The torso, with the other leg still attached.

A head. Frederic’s head. His eyes were open, glassy, his mouth parted slightly. She stopped breathing for a moment when she realized, finally, what the smell was. She looked down at his torso. She pulled off the pants. There was semen dried on the inside of his legs and on his buttocks. In his buttocks. The flesh around it was red, torn, blood dried on him. She held the piece of her brother, hardly breathing, numb, staring. It was impossible. But it happened.

Slowly, she turned to look at the people behind her. One woman had her hands latched over her mouth. She was horrified. The two men flanking her were likewise sickened. “Who,” Luciana said. The woman shook her head. She didn’t know. Luciana turned to the dog. “Penny,” she said, holding out the piece of Frederic. The dog balked, and Luciana growled lowly, like an animal was living in her throat. The beast was rising. Penny sniffed at the dried semen, balked, sniffed again. Luciana tucked the pieces back into the bag, and followed Penny.

The dog led her through the Old Town in circles, and then into the Trade Disctrict. Luciana was garnering stares. She ignored it. None of that mattered. Frederic was in a bag. Frederic had been hurt. Penny knew who did it. Penny was going to find them. Luciana was going to -

There was nothing in her mind but a constant roar, a scream. If she opened her mouth it would come out and she’d be screaming constantly as she jogged after Penny. When the mastiff bayed and sped up, Luciana knew he had the scent, had the trail and was about to find the man responsible.

The dog sprinted into the fountain square, leaped and latched his jaw onto a man’s shoulder. He yelped, went down with the dog, and Luciana dropped the bag, opening her mouth and screaming as she leaped much the same way Penny had done. The dog started to bark, howl, snarl, bay, make every loud noise he could while he paced around Luciana. She had the man’s neck in her hands, was shaking him hard enough to break it if she hadn’t been clutching it so hard. His head hit the paving stones, hit them again, and he was screaming for help and Luciana still kept screaming wordless rage.

It took four guards picking her up, one taking each limb, to release the man from her grip. Another guard had taken Penny’s collar, and the mastiff waited patiently, panting. Two more guards had the man in their grip. An officer was inspecting the contents of the bag with a pale face.

“Bring them both in,” he ordered. “And the dog.”

Luciana stopped screaming only after they let her dog lick her hand. The dog was licking her hand. She looked down, her voice quieting. The dog had done well. “Good dog,” she mumbled, resisting when the guards tried to pull her away. “Good dog. You found him. Good dog.” Penny’s tail wagged. “He... he hurt Frederic. He.” 

She tensed, bracing her legs and then the guards couldn’t move her at all. “He hurt Frederic,” she said numbly, trembling. One guard backed away from her. The two holding her shoulders said something that she didn’t hear. “He cut him up. Penny, that was my brother. Frederic is in a bag.”

The beast clawed its way back up but this time she didn’t scream - she turned and the guards backed off immediately, seeing that they couldn’t take her down. She ran and leapt onto the man who was calling out, screaming for help, she was mad, please, get her off. She wanted to feel his bones breaking under her hands. She wanted to tear his arms off with her teeth. She wanted - wanted - break. Break him. Break. She was screaming again, hitting him with fists that fell like hammers. She was screaming again.

“Enough!” The voice was nearly enough to cut through her haze. The hands that grasped at hers were enough. They were cold - armour, metal armour glinting under the sun. Claws on the knuckles. She looked up, quieted. Her throat felt like it bled. There was a proud lion’s head on the belt. Where did he come from, why did he come? Up. Blue and gold. Up. Fur. Up. A face. “Luciana.” A voice. “Calm. You need to calm it. Pull it down. It’s alright. Pull it back.” There was command in the voice but it did not speak commands. “Luciana, calm.” Penny’s head nudged her arm. “Calm, Luciana.”

She looked down. The man was hardly breathing. She inhaled, exhaled, looked over. The bag was in the officer’s hand. He was still pale. He looked nauseous. “Sire,” he said, holding out the bag. “It... she had reason.”

She hunched, her abdomen clenching. She let out a keening wail, hands tightening around the gauntlets, holding on, hoping. The gauntlets pulled her forward. She clutched at the armour. She was crying, now, loudly, screaming and crying and shaking, struggling and kicking weakly. Her body fought, longed to fight the threat, but the threat wasn’t physical, it wasn’t something her body could destroy. She couldn’t do _anything_ , he was already dead. The blade had taken to him like the ax had to Devon and it wasn't fair.

The King held her steady. She wondered, in disjointed pieces, where he'd come from, how he'd gotten to her so fast. "Take the bag to the coroner,” he ordered. It rang in her ears like it was meant for her and her struggling began anew. Orders. She could follow orders. “Take the man to the holding cells. Find out what he did to earn her wrath.”

“Sire.” The officer saluted.

“Calm, Luciana,” he soothed. He was kneeling, she realized, on the stones. He was still as a rock. She stopped struggling, kept crying, too breathless to scream. “Disperse,” the King growled. The guards hurried to enforce it. “Come on, Luciana. Stand up. That’s it, come on.” He brought her up to her feet, draped his arm and his cloak over her shoulders and brought her out of the Trade District. She stopped screaming. Penny was following her, tongue lolling. Her sobs petered off.

“Good dog,” Luciana mumbled. “Good dog.”

Her abdomen clenched again and she stumbled and weaved, the breath knocked out of her. She wished for the blood-haze. It had numbed the pain from Devon's death, maybe it would again. The King didn't let her stop to think about it. He kept her moving, all the way to the Cathedral Square. He brought her into the Cathedral itself, handed her off to a paladin who was out of her armour. “I can’t say much,” the King said. “Treat her carefully. Her fury is still strong and it's mixing with some kind of delayed trauma shock,” he said. “Whatever she says cannot pass these walls.”

“It won’t,” the paladin said quietly. She took Luciana from the King. “Come on, now. Let’s get you sitting somewhere quiet.”

Luciana felt numb as the paladin introduced herself as Magdalene. She sat Luciana down at a square table, brought her some water and dragged a chair over to sit next to her. “Do you need to talk?” the paladin offered. 

“He was my brother,” she whispered, staring at the table. Her hands were limp, lying in her lap. “My baby brother. I was supposed to protect him. He was so tiny. His hand...” She held up her hands. They weren't bloody but she knew they should be. “Was so small. I carried him with one arm. He wanted to play knights with me.”

“What happened?” the paladin asked quietly.

“He went missing. Penny found him. Good dog,” she mumbled, casting around for the mastiff. Penny’s head popped into view from under the table, resting heavy on her leg. She rubbed the top of his head. “Good dog. You found Frederic. You found him. He...” She curled forward, exhaling as her abdominal muscles clenched painfully. “I...” She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe. It hurt, worse than Devon. She wanted it to stop. The paladin’s hand rested on her back and her gut eased a bit, enough for her to breathe. “He was so small. In the bag. He fit in the bag. His eyes were open." Staring. She still saw Devon's eyes, in her dreams. Open, glassy like a jar of sugared nuts. "They’re gonna stay that way, they’re gonna have to close the casket.” She looked up at the paladin. “Can they close his eyes?”

“Don’t worry about it,” the paladin soothed. “The undertaker will take care of that.”

“He’s gonna have to sew him up,” Luciana muttered, looking back down at Penny. She continued to rub his head. It was soft under his fingers. “Stitches. At least four hundred stitches. Like a ragdoll. Ragdoll in a bag. He smelled like piss and blood and sex. Children shouldn’t smell like that." The words came unbidden from her mouth, rambling. She would regret saying them, later, but right now she couldn't keep her tongue still. She pet Penny's head slowly. 

The paladin’s hands were gently rubbing her shoulders. “You’re okay,” she soothed. “Just breathe.” Luciana obeyed and started breathing again. “That’s it. Have some water.” The paladin helped her take a sip. “There you go.”

Luciana looked up at her. “He.” She stopped, breathed. “He raped a child. Frederic. He raped Frederic.” The paladin had to fight with her to make her sit back down. Luciana's muscles trembled with exhaustion, with rage, and Magdalene had a hard time keeping her down.

“Easy, girl," she soothed. "They’ve taken him in. They’re going to judge him. Don’t worry. He’s guilty, it’s obvious. He’s not going to get away with it.”

“No. They can’t - they can’t tell Mother. They can’t tell Mother. Don’t let them. Don’t. They can’t tell Mother.”

“Okay, okay. Easy. It’ll be at least a few days until they take him to court. He’s in the holding cell. Easy.”

Luciana fell silent, staring at Penny. Her hand rested on his head, still. He whined. “He’s thirsty,” she commented. The paladin made a kissing noise and offered Penny the glass of water. He lapped at it, trying to fit his great jaws into the glass. The paladin stood.

“I’ll get something better for him,” she said. “Stay in here. Just relax, try to breathe slowly. I’ll be right back.”

“He cut him up. He hurt my brother.” Devon had been her brother, too - or so she'd claimed. She'd let him down, too.

Luciana didn’t notice the paladin returning, only becoming aware when she noticed the paladin had a book. The sky outside was lightening. She’d been there all night, staring at the table. A blank haze, not unlike meditation but emptier. Less thinking, less pain. “Penny,” she said quietly. The dog started awake, his head ever on her lap. “Hi. Good dog.”

“Luciana?” the paladin asked. “Are you okay?”

“No,” she said, looking up. She inhaled, trying to get her senses working properly. “What’s happening now?”

“The coroner finished with his investigation. It’s pretty clear what happened, with what you told me and what the perpetrator said.”

“What did I tell you?”

“Bits and pieces,” Magdalene said, shrugging and marking her place in her book. “They sent a messenger not ten minutes ago. The guard wants to speak to you, if you’re up to it. He’s waiting outside.”

“Sure.” She could do it, now, when she was still numb. She'd scream later, fight and break things, and maybe it would help. Hurting others sometimes helped to lessen the hurt in her gut. 

The paladin patted her shoulder gently when she stood to fetch the guard. He was in full regalia save his helmet, which he rested on the table. He brushed his hair back, sighed, and sat heavily. “Knight Lieutenant Amadeus,” he greeted. “I’m Guard Robinson. I’d like you to tell me what you can remember from yesterday.”

“I got home after the spar with the King,” she said quietly. “Spoke to my father, went to my room, and read. Almost five hours, I think. Penny was with me.” She gestured to the mastiff. Someone had fed him. There were two bowls in the corner. “Desmond, the second eldest of my siblings, came into my room in a panic. He asked if I had seen Frederic. He said that no one had seen Frederic for... nearly six hours. Or exactly six hours.”

“Alright. What happened?” the guard asked.

“I told him to get me a horse, and had Penny sniff in Frederic’s room for his scent. Penny led me to the gates of the family estate. I took the horse from Desmond. He said the rest of the family, the servants too maybe, would search the area around the manor. Mother, he told me, she went to alert the city guard. I took the horse and followed Penny.”

“Where did the dog lead?”

“First to the Cathedral Square. Around the edge of the Dwarven District. Into the Old Town. I paid a man and three boys, his sons I thought. Two gold to look after the horse, two more after when I took it back. Someone should go get it,” she said, looking at the guard suddenly.

“The horse has been retrieved,” he soothed. “And the four men paid fairly. Please, continue. What did you do after you left your horse?”

“Penny led me further into the belly of the Old Town." Luciana wondered what 'paid fairly' meant. "He stopped at a pile of trash, sniffed at a leather bag. I...” She stopped. “I didn’t want to look.”

“I understand. Did you open it?” he asked.

“Yes. I knelt, I opened it." There were pieces. Frederic was in pieces, she wanted to say. The words came, halting, and the guard was patient. "I pulled out... a hand. I pulled out his head. He was torn up." 

“What do you mean, he was torn up? What parts of him?”

“His anus,” she said, her tone not wavering. She was an officer. She knew how investigations worked, how specifics were needed. She supplied them. She gave what should be given in a routine investigation. Falling back on old habits, old tones. It helped. She wasn't so much Luciana, now. She was Knight Lieutenant, waveringly but still there. “I was so mad,” she whispered. “I felt numb, lost track of time. Do you know how angry you have to be to go numb?”

“You were falling into your fury,” he said.

“Yes. I’m a warrior. I'm a berserker," she said unnecessarily. Someone would have already briefed the investigator on her berserker blood. "I looked over, there were three people - a woman, two men. They watched. She was covering her mouth. It wasn't them. I had Penny sniff Frederic." A scent, any scent, but at the time she hadn't been able to think past the taint on his skin and Penny had balked at her rising fury. "I took the bag. I followed him through the Old Town, into Trade. He picked up a fresh marker, sped up. I followed. He ran at the man, bayed, or maybe he bayed and then ran." Things had gotten mixed up, but for a report, it wouldn't matter which came first. "He leaped, got his jaws around the man’s shoulder. I dropped the bag. I started screaming. Hands around his throat. I was going to shake him into pieces. His head hit the stone a few times. Guards pulled me off. The man called for help.”

She had stopped talking. The guard looked up. “I understand this is difficult,” he started.

“This is necessary,” she replied. “I know how it is. I’ve conducted investigations before."

"It must be quite painful, all the same. We can stop for now, if you'd like," he offered quietly.

 _Painful?_ she puzzled. What did it matter if it was painful for her? She'd failed, twice now. She deserved that pain. "I don’t remember what happened," she continued. "I know I was on top of the man again soon after the guards grabbed me. Someone. An officer, he was holding the bag. I think he looked inside. I started hitting the man, I had him on the ground and I was screaming again. Punching him. The King got there at that point, sometime." She looked up. "Where did he come from?"

"Someone ran to the Keep to alert the Royal Guard," the investigator explained. "Since it involved you, and you're currently involved with the Royal House. I'm told he was in the Petitioner's Chamber at the time and rushed out the moment he heard there was trouble."

She nodded. "He took my hands, made me stop. I started crying. He held me still while the guards took the man and the bag away. He brought me here. Magdalene gave me water, let me talk a bit. Penny got some water.” The dog’s ears perked up at her and he cocked his head. His jowls swung with the movement. “I... suppose I disconnected. When I saw the book in her hand I woke up. Then you came in.”

“Alright.” The guard reviewed his notes, closed his little journal and tucked it into his breastplate. “I’ve heard everything I need to hear. You mentioned to Magdalene that you didn’t want your Mother to be told about... the details?” he asked.

“I don’t want them to hear that,” she said, shaking her head slowly. “I want to spare them that. If the man can be imprisoned or executed without that I would prefer it wasn’t mentioned. If it needs to be brought up... I won’t have him hurt another child,” she said slowly. She was waking up from the haze and she didn't like it. She wanted to sleep but she knew she'd only see Devon there. At least when she was awake, she could still see Frederic. It hadn't quite sunk in yet and she could still picture him happy, alive. Whole. In time it would become impossible - he'd become a maggot-bitten corpse with wide, glassy eyes just like Devon had. But for today, at least, she could imagine him whole.

“I understand.” The guard held out his hand. “By the way, it’s an honour to meet you, Knight Lieutenant. We’ve all heard of you in the city guard. A noble, with four White Hearts and a Red Heart. You’re something of an idol for a lot of us.”

“Thanks,” she said, shaking his hand. “They’re done with Frederic’s body?” she asked.

“Yes, it’s been sent to the undertaker for funeral prep. Your family has been told that he was found dead, but no other details have been released. When you’ve rested and recovered sufficiently, the King wants to speak to you. I don’t know why, I was just told that by Officer Pomeroy. Don’t worry about a thing, Knight Lieutenant. We’re going to do everything we can to lock the man up for the rest of his natural life. If possible, the King would have him executed.”

“Understood.” She stood, swaying badly on her feet. Magdalene moved to support her.

“She can take a cot here in the Cathedral,” the paladin said. “I’ll have Nancy keep an eye on her.”

Penny followed Luciana, dogging her heels as the paladin half-carried her through the Cathedral. She was allowed to drop down onto a cot, and when she was lying on her back, still, quickly approaching sleep, someone draped a thin blanket over her. Penny jumped up and stretched out next to her, pressed close. The warmth of his solid body was a comfort to her and she fell asleep to two murmuring female voices. Devon would be waiting for her with silent, blank eyes.


	12. Like a Fiddle

Luciana woke suddenly. It wasn’t a new thing for her. She sat up, pulling the blanket down from her chin. Penny groaned and stretched out beside her. She looked down, gave his back a few long rubs, and looked around.

“You’re up,” a woman said, standing and walking towards Luciana. A priest.

“You’re Nancy?” she asked.

“Yep, that’s me.” The woman smiled down at Luciana. “How do you feel?”

“That’s a good question,” Luciana said. “I don’t know. Tired.” Numb, but not quite numb enough anymore. She knew wine would numb it but the first and last time she'd used it to numb her Devon had torn her a new asshole. Almost an hour of yelling. She hadn't done it since. He wasn't there anymore to yell at her about bad habits but she wouldn't do it. Getting piss-drunk would be a poor way to thank him.

“That’s to be expected," Nancy said. "You’ve had a rough time. Come on, let’s get you something to eat.”

She led Luciana through the back halls of the Cathedral, coming to a stop in a small kitchen. Nancy retrieved a tray full of food - bread, fruit, cheese - and brought it to where Luciana had sat down. “Take your time,” she soothed. Luciana felt the Light wash over her. A blessing of fortitude. She recognized the sensation. It made breathing a little easier past the tight bands of steel wrapped around her rib cage.

“Thanks,” she murmured, picking up a bread roll.

She ate slowly, finding it a bit odd that she didn’t feel hungry when normally she could hardly eat enough at any given time. When she leaned back, finished, feeling sick, Nancy took the tray with the remaining fruit and returned it to the kitchen staff. “The King wants to see you,” the priest said when she returned. “He’s willing to let you rest and eat first, but he says he needs to speak with you before any sort of announcement is made on Frederic’s death. You can understand why he might be impatient to see you.”

“Yes.” Luciana looked down at herself, and straightened her coat and brushed dog hair off her pants. Nancy, with a friendly smile, fixed her short hair, smoothing flyaway hairs and stray locks into something resembling a proper style. “Does he expect me at the Keep?”

“Yes. I’ll send for someone to bring you over. They want you to take a horse, and wear a cloak to keep things calm.”

“Understood.”

Luciana waited in the cathedral’s Hall of Light, sitting on a bench that rested against a far wall. Penny again rested his great head on her leg. When Nancy approached her some time later, Luciana stood, straightened her coat again, and accepted the hooded cloak Nancy handed her.

“Officer McManus is waiting outside the Cathedral for you,” she said, giving Luciana a firm hug. “The Light is with you, warrior,” she murmured, holding Luciana’s face in delicate hands. “You may not feel it right now, but the Light shines brightest on those who carry on through the pain. Frederic is with the Light now. One day, you will see him again.”

“He wanted to play knights,” Luciana said. The Light was not with her. The one time she'd tried to call on it she'd found it severely lacking. If it was with her at all it would bring her back to her barrack soon. She hated the city. She hated the walls and the press of people and the unpredictability. The Basin was so much simpler. Her squadron would have her back. She wanted to leave.

“You will see him again someday,” Nancy promised. She pulled Luciana’s head down to kiss her forehead. “Light be with you, warrior,” she said, and pulled the hood over Luciana’s head. “Now go on.”

Luciana saw Officer McManus at the base of the stairs and descended them. She took the reins to a dappled grey horse, mounted, and followed him to the Keep. Not many people bothered to do more than glance at them. Penny followed loyally.

She dismounted and handed the reins to the guard. A Royal Guard motioned for her to follow, and he led her through the Keep, up a set of stairs, and towards a set of doors that were likely close to twelve feet high at the apex. “The King’s study,” the guard said. “He’s waiting inside.” She opened the left door, stepped in. The guard pulled it shut.

The King was sitting at his desk, head in his hand as he read over something. He looked up at the intrusion, saw her, and motioned for her to come forward. She did, standing at ease in front of his desk. Penny sat to her right, a large grey mass in the corner of her eye.

“Sit,” he sighed. She sat. “We need to talk about two things. One, you kissed Anduin.”

“I did.”

“He told me how you described what you were feeling at the time. And that he asked you to kiss him.” The King sighed heavily, putting the paper down to look at her fully. “I can’t say I don’t understand, but I can say that you overstepped. And you’re aware of that, I’m sure.” She nodded sharply. A salute. “I’m not going to act on it. Especially not now. I might be a master of the Game but I feel for you, Luciana.”

“Sire?”

“There will be no consequences for your actions on the Prince,” he said. “Save that you cannot do something like that again until the confirmation. This is your first, and only, warning.”

“Sire.” If she had been standing she would have saluted him. He had the same tone her Captain used.

“Anduin likes you. He trusts you, which might be a mistake considering you’re a berserker. He is a priest, Luciana. He’s strong, intelligent, but he is a healer. You are a warrior. Do you understand what I’m saying?” She nodded. “Then tell me.”

“A warrior’s hands are meant to be firm on their weapon, strong to uplift their allies. They are made to kill, to break, and destroy all threats. A healer’s hands are bloody but they are meant to save, to comfort. A healer is small, soft at heart with hands made bloody from care, while the warrior is large, rough, bloody like a feeding beast. The healer is compassion, and the warrior is cruel.” She blinked. The King waited for her to continue. “A warrior must be careful when handling a healer, for the healer is more precious than the warrior. Control must be maintained.”

“And you willingly gave up control, even if only for a moment,” the King said. “You can’t do that again.”

“Yes, Sir.”

His response to that was a quirked smile, but it fell quickly. “Now. About your brother.” He watched her carefully as he spoke. “The man your dog bit is named Roger Foil. He was questioned,” he said, with a meaningful expression. _Tortured_ , it said. _Shadow magic. Mind invasion and truth torn from the psyche._ “He claims to have been hired by Horde agents to target you specifically with the goal of creating chaos and unbalance in Stormwind. He is a rogue, shoddy at best, but good enough to eavesdrop on you and your aunt as you discussed kissing the Prince. He targeted your brother because it is well-known that your siblings are precious to you, and your punishment was his goal.”

“I have five-four siblings,” she said quietly.

“I know.” The King nodded. “He gave us leads on some of his Horde employers, but..."

"But?" Luciana prompted. 

"You are aware that the likelihood of him actually being hired by the Horde is low."

"Chaos sown in the Royal Family would unbalance the entire kingdom. Why would they not take advantage of my weaknesses if it meant weakening their enemy?"

The King regarded her carefully. "Think about it," he said. "The state of Orgrimmar. A new Warchief."

"... They are weak," she said softly. "They wouldn't chance angering the High King. A few skirmishes, battlegrounds, are one thing. To strike at the heart of the Alliance's main power would be a fool's errand." 

"Exactly," the King said, praise in his voice. "However, we can't ignore the possibility that Foil's claim is true. I’ve already dispatched SI:7 agents, and forces close to the locations Foil indicated have been alerted. Whether it's the Horde, or some splinter group, we _will_ know the truth. Foil will be punished and if we find that there were others involved, they will be punished as well. But, as it stands, Foil's conviction is the most I can do."

Luciana nodded slowly. "Thank you, Sire."

"Now. Guard Robinson said you wanted to keep the details a secret. Why?”

“I would spare my family that knowledge,” she said. “That the last thing Frederic knew was... It would destroy them.”

“It looks like it’s destroying you,” the King said.

“It’s a burden I’m willing to bear.”

“You don’t have to do it alone.”

“No, I don’t. I don’t need to command my troops, either. I don’t need to control myself, I don’t need to be patient with people. I don’t need to do a lot of things. But I do them anyway. I have broad shoulders, Sire. Others do not.”

He observed her carefully for a long few moments. “I understand that Frederic was like your own son,” he said quietly. “When Anduin chose you I had you investigated.”

“Of course.” She nodded.

“It was reported to me that since Frederic was brought home to you, you took special care with him and treated him like your own.”

“I did.”

The King leaned back in his chair and swallowed. “I want you to know that I understand the pain you are feeling. If something happened to Anduin...” he growled, eyes flashing. He stopped, shuddering, breathed deeply to rein it back in. “I would lose it. I would not stop until everyone around me was dead. And then I would mourn. And I would never stop mourning.”

“The only direction is forward, Sire,” she said. “I will march ever onwards. I fall, I stumble, I trip. But I have to keep moving.”

His eyes roved her face. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “It’s because of your betrothal to the Prince that this happened.”

“It happened because of my actions. I will not lose control again.”

His brow furrowed. “It’s not your fault, Luciana.”

She tilted her head slightly. “I will not lose control again, Sire,” she promised.

“Luciana,” he started. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think you have combat fatigue. You've been displaying a lot of the symptoms. Perhaps it was delayed."

“Probably. It doesn’t matter. I’ll head back to the Basin when the legal issues are straightened out.”

“I can’t let you go back with combat fatigue.”

“Sire, I can’t stay here,” she argued quietly, keeping her tone carefully neutral. “I can’t stay in the city right now. I feel wrong. I can’t sleep. I need to be with my soldiers.”

“Your squadron,” he said quietly. “Your family.”

“Yes. Although, I don’t feel I can leave my siblings. One man was enough to break through all of our security. How did he do it?" she asked suddenly.

"He lured Frederic from the outskirts of the Amadeus property. Offered sweets and, from what I understand, offered to bring Frederic to pet his dogs."

She felt breathless for a moment, painfully so. "It could happen again?” she said, half a question, half a confession of her weakness, her fear.

“I’ll have SI:7 agents stationed in and around the manor,” he said. “I should have done so earlier, but I thought that a tentative betrothal wouldn’t merit such caution. I was wrong, and for that, I am sorry. Agents will be assigned to your direct family members and anyone involved, such as Lady Talia. This will not happen again. You don’t have to fear for your family while they’re in the city.”

“Thank you, Sire,” she said, forcibly relaxing her shoulders. “And what about Foil? What will he be charged with?”

“Murder of a child," the King said with humour in his voice. “That alone merits execution. Dismemberment. Disrespecting a corpse. Of a child, even. I’ve half a mind to charge him with treason against the Royal House for attacking the family of one betrothed to a member of the House. And also for conspiring against a noble House, conspiring to kill members of a noble House, conspiring against a Knight Lieutenant... the list is long. We can do away with him very easily without mentioning the overly morbid details.”

“The rape,” she corrected quietly.

“Yes. It doesn’t need to be known that he raped Frederic.”

“Was it done before or after death?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“I have to know. Otherwise I’ll spend what's left of my life wondering.”

“Before death,” he said.

“I thought so.” She nodded.

Someone knocked at the door. A guard slipped in. “Sire, I know you said you were not to be disturbed, but the Prince is asking to see the Knight Lieutenant.”

The King looked at Luciana, whose wide eyes told him what he needed to know. “The Lieutenant has been through a lot,” he said. “She doesn’t have the capacity to speak with so many people right now. She will see him another day.”

“Sire. The Prince said to remind you he is a priest.”

Luciana’s eyes met the King’s, and she shook her head minutely.

“My statement stands. If he still insists, tell him I will speak with him in a moment.”

“Sire.”

The door was firmly shut before Luciana spoke. “Him being a priest was part of the problem,” she said. “He used the Light to heal my wound. That... it lowers your defenses. Makes you open, vulnerable. Especially for a soldier.”

“You have a paladin healer, don’t you?”

“Yes. When the Light is used to heal me I tend to relax, slouch over. I’ve fallen asleep from it before. It’s not just me - any squadron with a Light healer will tell you, it’s happened to them too.”

“I see. So when he healed you...” The King paused, casting for the right words. “It relaxed you, made you feel like you could let loose a bit.”

“It welcomed me.”

“Right.” He nodded once. “Well, there’s nothing more to discuss on that anyway. Do you have any questions on Foil? Concerns about it?”

“Did the undertaker manage?” 

“Yes, Frederic’s body is almost ready for burial. I believe Lord Bertrand is organizing that. Your mother is receiving guests bearing sympathy and gifts.” He looked at her oddly. “Will you be alright?”

“I have to be.”

“If it becomes too much to have so many people at your manor, you can come here. I will have a room prepped for you.”

“Thank you, Sire. I don’t think it will be necessary.”

“It will be here if you need it.”

For a moment, she stared at the edge of the desk. Then, her eyes flicked up to meet his evenly. “You’re playing me,” she said quietly. “Not actively, but you’re playing me. You want the betrothal to be firm. I am your first choice for the Prince.”

He smiled. It wasn’t a malicious smile, and actually held a hint of delight. “I am,” he said, and she thought she heard pride in his voice. “You and he complement each other. You’re intelligent, driven, loyal, intimidating, and you have a berserk state. Everything a queen would need to stand next to Anduin. He also likes you.” His smile was mischievous now. “Really, he does,” he said when she raised an eyebrow, doubting. “He’s a young man, and finds you very attractive. I had words with him for teasing you in the changing rooms.”

“That was my fault,” she said.

“You overstepped a line, but it was his fault for following you in there and asking you to kiss him. He’s a smart kid but sometimes he just doesn’t think.” The King chuckled, smiling fondly. “Ah, but that’s where you come in. You’re always thinking. The only times you don’t think is times like when you found Frederic. Even in a berserk state, I’m told you can think. You identify allies versus foes, and are even aware enough to mediate while berserking. You know that’s amazing?” he said. “You can meditate while berserking. I wouldn’t think it possible but Enaeon swore up and down that was the case.”

“Enaeon sends you reports?” she asked.

“No. I see the reports sent in from the draenei in the integration program.”

“Ah. To be expected, I suppose.”

“Hm. That reminds me - you have a new scout for when you return. Jillian Rourke, worgen. All of the worgen scouts are from the Gilnean Royal Hunters. She’s apparently quite good at tracking and has particularly sensitive night vision.”

“Good. That comes in handy.”

“I know.” He grinned. She noticed that his canines were pointed, more so than usual in a human. “How are you feeling?” he asked. “Can you get home alone? Well, you have your mastiff. He’s a very good dog, by the way.”

“I know. He’s been dogging my heels since I got here. Woke me up from a nightmare the other night.”

“Really? Some dogs do that with their humans.” He sighed, heaving himself out of his chair. He wasn’t in his armour, instead wearing dark clothes. Loose trousers, soft leather shoes, a long-sleeved wool shirt. She saw a housecoat draped over the back of his chair and realized with a jolt of surprise that she was seeing him how Anduin saw him - relaxed, open, vulnerable. It was unnerving. She stood, about to move into parade rest. Her hands stalled at her sides when the King gently pulled her forward against his chest, folding thick arms around her. He radiated heat. His chin came to rest on her head. “I’m sorry for what happened,” he murmured. “It’s hard to see any of my people in pain. When I know them personally, know what else they’ve suffered through, it only makes it harder.”

She relaxed, letting her ear press against his chest, her hands lightly resting on his sides. He smelled of clean linen and ink, and something spicy. Aftershave, perhaps. She felt her eyes start to water, felt a lump in her throat. Her abdomen clenched again and she stepped away, more willing to insult the King than she was to cry in front of him. He seemed to understand, and smiled sadly. “It will pass,” he promised. “Eventually.”

“I know.” She swallowed the lump and patted her thigh for Penny. The mastiff groaned but got to his feet and shook his coat out. “I should get going. My brothers are...” She stopped, her mouth working for a moment. “They’re probably worried sick about me.”

“Go on,” the King said, nodding to the door. “I’ll talk to Anduin. He doesn’t yet understand the delicate balance between warriors and healers.”

“How can he? He’s never been exposed to it.”

“Not like we have,” King Varian agreed. “If you need to use your room here, just ask a guard to show you where it is.”

“Thank you, Sire.”

“Take care.”

Penny followed her from the room. The guard outside nodded to her. When she left the Keep, she pulled the hood over her head. No one looked at her as she walked down the canals past the Dwarven District, through the Cathedral Square’s back roads, and then to the Amadeus family manor.


	13. Farsighted

She managed to stay calm for two hours in the manor. Most of it was spent in her room, sitting on her bed cross-legged and a few inches away from rolling into a ball. Bannister hovered worriedly, brow furrowed heavily, eyes red from shed tears. He knew she was the one that had found Frederic, and knew she had gone berserk and nearly killed the man responsible. Everyone knew it.

Desmond had stayed in the lower levels to help deal with the influx of sympathetic visitors, mostly nobles from other Houses. Mannarie and Ophelia were also there. Dania was in Luciana’s room, silently staring at her sister from the chair at Luciana’s desk. Penny had sat on the bed behind the Knight, pressing against her back, and whenever she moved, Penny moved with her, huffing a complaint.

“I need to... go check on something,” Bannister said lamely. He locked the door behind him for privacy’s sake.

“Luce,” Dania said quietly. “I want to tell you something.”

Luciana sighed, sitting straight and taming her face into a kind one. “What is it?” she asked calmly.

“I don’t want you to be mad at me. You won’t love me anymore.”

“Oh, Dania,” she sighed, sliding off the bed. Penny grumbled, watching her walk across the room. “I won’t get mad at you unless you bleached my favourite tunic, and even then I’d still love you. Why would I ever stop loving you? You’re my sister.” Luciana kneeled in front of the chair, taking Dania’s hands in her own and resting them on the girl’s lap.

“It’s a bad thing,” she whispered. “I saw it.”

“What did you see?” she asked.

“I saw the man. He took Frederic from the gardens. I saw it. Well, I didn’t see it. I saw it.”

Luciana very carefully modulated her voice and her facial expression, and kept her posture low, relaxed. Whatever Dania was saying, the way Luciana reacted could hurt her. That was the last thing Luciana wanted. “Could you explain the difference?” she asked. “You... didn’t see, but saw, a man taking Frederic.”

“The man,” she said. “I saw the man taking Frederic. I was in the library reading and I saw it happen. And then it happened.”

Luciana’s eyes widened and her brows raised. “Oh. I see what you mean. Okay. So you saw something happen in your head, sort of like imagining, and then it happened.”

“Yes. Are you mad at me?”

“No! Of course not. Why would I be angry with you?”

“I saw it before it happened. I should have told someone.”

“Oh, my dear, sweet sister,” Luciana sighed, standing. She picked Dania up from her chair. Despite the girl’s growing weight and height, Luciana had no trouble holding her aloft. She seemed not to mind it. “You couldn’t have known it was going to happen.”

“I saw it!” she argued. “I saw it happen.”

“How would you have known it wasn’t just a daydream? An intrusive thought with a bit too much imagination behind it? The mind plays tricks, Dania, especially when one is as intelligent as we are.” She sat her down on the bed, sitting next to her and putting a warm hand on her back. Dania, like the rest of the family, was wearing white. White was the colour of mourning in Stormwind. It meant new beginnings, rebirth from death as the soul joined its ancestors in the eternal embrace of the Light. Death was the only pure thing - everything in life was messy, tied up and tangled in a thousand other things. Death severed all ties, leaving only the path to the Light. White reflected that purity.

“I saw it,” Dania mumbled. “I saw it. I knew it was going to happen. Desmond is going to open the door,” she said. “He’s going to tell us that Mother wants to see you and Aunt Talia is looking for you and so are a dozen guests who want to talk to the Knight Lieutenant who found her dismembered baby brother in a sack.”

The door opened and Desmond popped his head in. “Luce, Mother wants to see you. And Aunt Talia’s looking for you, too. And about a dozen guests... what? What is it?” he asked, seeing her wide-eyed stare. “You look like you’ve seen a troll. You okay?”

“I’ll be down in a minute,” she said.

“Okay.” His tone was dubious, but he retreated all the same.

“See?” Dania said. “I saw that. An hour ago. I was in the gardens.”

“So,” Luciana said quietly. “You see things and then, within a short time, they come true?”

“Yes!”

“Dania,” she said quietly. “I’m not angry with you for that. How could I be? You’re not responsible for what happens in these visions. You’re not responsible for the people, and you were not responsible for that man. You are only responsible for yourself.”

“I could have told someone,” she said, wiping unshed tears from her eyes. Luciana drew a kerchief from her breast pocket and handed it over. “I could have stopped it.”

“Dania, listen to me,” Luciana said. “You are not responsible for the people in your visions. They are responsible for themselves. Look. Look at me,” she ordered, and Dania looked up. “What you experienced, these visions, are sometimes called prophetic visions. Some call it farseeing. Others call them waking dreams, or foresight, or future sight. There are many names, but they’re all the same thing. Magic.”

“I’m not a mage,” Dania said.

“You might be. You’re twelve - you could be any number of things. If you’re seeing things that become reality a few hours later, you might be farseeing. That means you have magic in you.”

“I don’t feel magical,” she mumbled.

“Maybe not. But future sight is a form of magic. It’s rare, and usually not very dependable. Half the time the things come true, and half the time they don’t. And the people witnessing them can’t tell the difference. Sometimes trying to change the future will actually cause it to come about. Dania,” she said, slipping off the bed to kneel in front of her. “You might be a mage. And a mage is a wonderful thing to be.”

“I like math, not magic,” she said.

“Math is the basis of all sciences,” Luciana said. “And magic is a science. You see the world through numbers, just as I see it through strategies and Father sees it through transactions. It’s one of many ways of seeing the world. Just think,” she said with a smile. “If you’re a mage, you might be able to go and study in Dalaran. Think of all the things they must know there! How many mages also see the world through numbers? I’m willing to bet there are quite a few of them.”

“I couldn’t visit you from there,” she said, but she was starting to smile.

“It’s a city full of mages, you silly girl,” Luciana teased. “You can just have a portal opened. I think Dalaran has a permanent portal to Stormwind, anyway.”

“Would you visit me there?”

“If you couldn’t come to Stormwind while I visited the others, then yes. I would. We don’t know if that’s where you’re going just yet, Dania. Let me talk to Father about it. He’ll know who to talk to.”

“Okay.”

“And, Dania? I want you to remember this. You are not responsible for anything that happens in your visions. If you see someone doing something, it’s not you that’s doing it. It’s them. You’re just seeing it before it happens instead of after.”

“What if I see something bad? Like with Frederic?” she asked.

“Then you go and tell Desmond,” Luciana said. “And he can decide what to do. He’s a grown man, and while you are very intelligent and caring, you’re still a child. Desmond can see if there’s danger, and if there is, he can protect you. He can alert whoever needs to be alerted if he feels there’s cause for worry. Like I said, there’s usually no way to know if a vision will actually come to pass. So don’t worry too much about it, okay?”

“Okay.” Dania sniffed, wiped her nose and eyes with the kerchief, and delicately folded it and put it in Luciana’s laundry hamper at the foot of her bed. “Aunt Talia really does need to see you, though.”

“I know why,” Luciana soothed. “Just out of curiosity, what other things have you seen?”

“I saw Frogo poop on Father’s favourite chair,” she said.

Luciana laughed, brushing Dania’s hair from her face. “Alright. What else?”

“I saw you with a crown. It was very lovely.”

“A nice thought. I think that’s one of those visions that won’t actually happen, though.”

“And I saw a city guard trip over an uneven stone.”

Luciana kept laughing, guiding Dania from the room. “Ah, some of these seem quite nice.”

“They’re not all bad. Just some of them.”

“Mm. Remember what I told you, alright? I’ll speak to Father soon about it. Go and mingle with the guests, stay with Mother.”

“I don’t want to. They all say they’re sorry, but they aren’t.”

“I know. But it’s how it is. Mother could use the company, I think. How are you feeling?”

“I want him back,” she said. “But I can’t have him back, so I have to just let go.”

“You can cry,” Luciana said. “Scream, cry, let it out. Even heroes fall sometimes. And then you get back up and keep moving, because there’s so much to live for even without Frederic here.”

“Like maybe being a mage?” she asked.

“Exactly! Isn’t it exciting? To think you might be a mage?”

“It kind of is,” she said.

“I think so. Go on, now. I see Mother in the antechamber.”

Dania’s skirts ruffled as she hopped down the stairs. Their mother turned and embraced her, bursting into tears. Luciana spied her aunt in the doorway to the dining hall, and descended the stairs. Slow, sober notes floated from the pianist and violinist duo in the far chamber.

“Knight Lieutenant.” Lord Pembrooke stepped forward. “I heard about the unpleasant things you had to do. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, Lord Pembrooke. I appreciate it.”

“How are you taking it?”

“Like I must. I take the time to mourn, but I am a Knight. I cannot abandon the living, no matter how much it pains me to move past his death.”

“An understandable, and admirable, sentiment,” he said, placing a hand on her upper arm for a moment. “My sympathies, Knight Lieutenant.”

“Thank you.”

“Knight Lieutenant!” Lord Wellington found her. “I am sorry for your loss, my Lady,” he said, kissing the back of her hand. “If there is anything I can do to alleviate the burden, please, let me know.”

“Thank you, Lord Wellington. I appreciate it.”

“Knight Lieutenant!” Lady Marina took her hand. “I am so sorry for your loss. I know how hard it is to lose a family member.”

“Thank you, Lady Marina. I appreciate it.”

“How do you feel?”

“I mourn, as do we all. Frederic had a bright future.”

“So sad. I will pray for you and your family.”

“Thank you.”

“Knight Lieutenant!” Lord Silverstone blocked her path. “I heard that you were the one to find the bag. Is it hard to carry that weight with you?”

“I carry the burden of his death as we all do,” she said.

“Do you plan to return to the battlefield soon?”

“I have responsibilities to my soldiers.”

“Still, to abandon your family while they mourn is quite callous.”

“I thank you for your concern over my family, Lord Silverstone. They will appreciate knowing that so many are sympathetic.” She was tempted to take a shot at the state of his family affairs, messy as they were, but resisted.

She slipped past him, took her aunt’s elbow, and excused them from the ladies who had surrounded her. She guided Talia through the servant’s entrance and into the kitchens, where they could speak in relative privacy.

“Luciana, good. I wanted to speak with you. The King has decided to not pursue any...”

“I know. I spoke to him before returning to the manor.”

“Oh, you did?” Talia asked. “Tell me about it.”

“I was guided to his study. He told me that he will not react to the situation with the Prince but it cannot happen again. We spoke of the duties a warrior holds towards a healer, the balance between the two, and my roles as a warrior. He offers his sympathies, and said that if he had found Anduin the way I found Frederic, he would have reacted very much the same way. He also says that I have a room in the private wing should our guests here become too much.”

“That’s... unexpected,” Talia said. “But it shows he trusts you, at least a little.”

“That’s the impression I got. But, Aunt. He’s been playing the Game, not actively, but certainly playing us the entire time.”

“To what ends?” Talia asked. Luciana considered, for a moment, that she might not be trustworthy - but she quickly squashed the notion. She couldn’t start mistrusting her family now.

“I’m his first choice,” she murmured. “He says that I would complement Anduin perfectly.”

“Oh my. Well.” Talia cleared her throat, looking around for a moment and lowering her voice. “You don’t want to marry the Prince,” she prompted.

“I don’t want to leave the army,” Luciana corrected. “The army is where I belong. It’s my home, my squadron my family, my Captain my father.”

“You have a family.”

“They’re my family, too, Aunt,” she said. “When I come here, I can’t sleep. I have nightmares. When I’m with them, I feel safe. I come to Stormwind and I feel off, I feel wrong. Everything’s wrong, too loud, too... too much. In the garrison, in the field, everything becomes clear. I can think, strategize, control the playing field, play the odds. Here... Here, I can hardly even manage myself.”

Talia sighed, suddenly looking very, very tired. “Luciana,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know how to help you anymore. I just... I want you to be happy. When I think back to how you were as a child...”

“I know.”

“It’s hard. If you’re happy in the army, I’ll fight the Legion to keep you there. If you don’t want to marry, I’ll fight that, too.”

“I don’t want to leave the army,” Luciana said. “I’m on a career path and I will not leave it. But the King will not abandon the Game, Aunt. He wants me for the Prince. And he will go to any lengths for the Prince.”

“I know. I’ll stall him as long as I can. I have a few things I can try now that I know he’s not actually looking for other options.”

“Thank you.”

“If it turns out you can firm the betrothal, marry, but still stay as an officer... would that work?”

“It would.”

“Then I’ll aim for that when he starts to block off escape routes,” Talia said. “I’ll keep you where you belong if I have to strangle the man to do it.”

“Maybe don’t do that,” Luciana chuckled, and hugged Talia. “Thank you, Aunty.”

“Thank you. This family would be in pieces without your steady head.”

“Funny you should say that to a berserker.”

“Oh hush, girl.”

Luciana and Talia rejoined the guests, mingling and deflecting verbal attacks. Nobles were always thinking, planning, playing the Game, and the Amadeus family was well known for its superior intellect and capabilities in the Court. The Game was on, and the playground belonged to the Amadeus.

Luciana, however, could only take so much before she felt smothered, twitchy. Her body longed to fight it all off, and she carefully disengaged herself. She made excuses to her Father, nodded farewell to her aunt, and disappeared into the private quarters. She made an overnight bag with an extra few changes of clothes, gathered necessities, and slipped on the plain brown cloak she had been using all day. With the hood pulled up and the pack over her shoulder, it only took Penny to complete the appearance of a regular traveler.

The Keep was quiet in the evening. People could be heard talking, but nothing jumped out at her. She looked around, chose a guard to speak to. “Knight Lieutenant,” the guard said, nodding. 

“I was told a guard would be able to show me to my room here,” she murmured.

“Of course. Follow me, please.” He led her back up the private wing, where six guards were stationed and two more paced the hall at regular intervals. “Here is your room.” He gestured to a door, and she opened it. He left before she could turn to thank him.

“Alright,” she murmured, shutting the door and locking it. The antechamber held a table and four comfortably padded chairs spaced evenly around it. There was a closet with room for coats, and four hat hooks.

The bedroom was comfortably furnished with a large bed with drapery, a richly coloured red rug covering the floor underneath it. The hearth was unlit, but the season didn’t demand a heating fire. In front of the hearth were two plush armchairs with a small round table between them. The mantle over the hearth was undecorated, save for an Alliance coat of arms hanging over it. In the corner was a desk with some supplies, pens and stamps and paper. A chair sat behind it, straight-backed and padded. A sofa was on the other side of the room. Behind it was a wide bookshelf, currently mostly empty save a few books on what looked to be history. There was a low coffee table in front of the sofa with a chessboard laid out with its pieces appropriately placed, waiting patiently for a game. An armoire stood in the corner next to the bed, made of the same wood as the nightstand.

Luciana sighed, shrugging off the cloak and draping it over an armchair. She dropped her bag into the same chair, going into the washroom. The Keep, of course, had indoor plumbing, an ingenious gnomish design. She splashed cold water over her face, dried it with a soft towel. She changed into sleepwear from her bag and pulled back the duvet. The sheets were crisp, freshly washed, and she slipped into the bed with a sigh. Hopefully she wouldn’t overheat.

She hadn’t lit any sconces, and the light from the moon illuminated the room just enough for her to see Penny wander about, sniffing everything he could reach - which was a lot, considering his size. After a while he was satisfied with his inspection, and jumped onto the bed. He curled up next to her, and she laid her arm along his back.

“Goodnight, Penny,” she murmured. The dog sighed heavily.


	14. Dark Roots Run Deep

Luciana woke when Penny started to nudge her hand. The sun was already up, but it was still early, so she rolled out of bed. She inspected the shower, figured out how to use it, and with cool water streaming down her back, she let herself cry for a short time. She towel-dried her short hair, tamed it with a brush, and dressed in clothes that wouldn’t advertise exactly who she was. She could take advantage of her new place in the castle, but she didn’t feel like dealing with any of the troubles that came with being a noble for one morning. She avoided wearing all white, instead wearing black leggings and a white cotton shirt under her officer’s coat, which she left open. Penny followed her from the room, whining quietly.

“I know,” Luciana murmured. She led Penny outside the Keep after wandering for a bit to find the door that would lead to the training area. Penny found a bush, did his business, and sniffed around for a while until Luciana made to go back inside. He ran in through the door, stopping in front of her and panting lightly. “I’d say you were smiling but your jowls ruin the effect,” she said. “Come on, let’s get breakfast.”

She found the kitchens and attached dining hall. It was meant for servants and guards, she guessed, but she went to the cook’s counter anyway. “Mind if I eat in here?” she asked.

“Not at all, Knight Lieutenant! I imagine you could get noble fare brought up to your room, if you wanted.”

“I’m a soldier, Cook,” she said with a smile.

“Ah, I getcha. Alright. What about big beastie down there?”

“If you’ve got meat scraps, that’ll be fine.”

“And what do you want, Knight Lieutenant?”

She thought for a moment. “I don’t feel particularly hungry, but I haven’t eaten enough the past day.”

“King gets mighty pissy when that happens to him,” the cook mused. “Alright. I’ll fix you up.”

Within minutes, she had a tray with a steaming bowl of oats, a bowl of berries, a plate full of sausages and sliced ham, a wide wedge of soft cheese, buttered white toast, a small bowl of jam, and two fried eggs with highlander's sauce. She was also given a tray that held pieces of beef and chicken, not scraps but rather the food usually reserved for humans. “You don’t have to give him these,” she said. “He’s a dog, anything will do.”

“Nonsense! He’s a good dog. He deserves it.”

She thanked the cook and brought the food to a table somewhere in the far corner. She could keep an eye on the door and the entire room from her vantage point. She put the meat tray on the ground and Penny set on it eagerly. Luciana took her time eating. She surprised herself with how much she ate, despite not feeling hungry, and returned both trays empty save for the bowls. She thanked the cook as he took the trays back.

“A pleasure, Knight Lieutenant. I heard what happened. You’ve got all our sympathies.” He indicated the kitchen at large and she smiled.

“Thank you.”

Penny followed her as she wandered the Keep. She found the library through another entrance, and spent some time reading at a table. She ignored the people who looked at her and whispered among themselves. Penny sat by her chair, facing backwards. When she grew bored of reading, she placed the book back where she’d found it and returned to her room in the private quarters. The guards nodded as she passed.

She had brought her sword with her, hiding it under her cloak, and she dressed in her sparring leathers and took her sheath in hand. The training area to the rear of the Keep was sparsely populated. A couple of off-duty Royal Guards were wrestling in one of three rings. A few more were at the practice dummies, and one was frantically doing sit-ups with a fellow holding down her feet.

“Hail, Knight Lieutenant,” the spotter greeted.

“Morning.”

Luciana set about stretching, Penny wandering a bit and sniffing at guards. He earned a few pats for his efforts. She drew her sword, setting the sheath against the side of the shed, and practiced swings and thrusts of varying speeds.

“Feel like getting a bit of practice?” a guard asked.

“Sure.”

She didn’t release any of her fury, wanting to feel the burn in her muscles and in her lungs. The guard was well-practiced and fought as well as any warrior she knew. Only the best could join the Royal Guard, and it showed. She sparred against two more, and waved off to cool down.

“Thanks for the fight,” she panted.

“A pleasure, Knight Lieutenant,” the woman said, bowing her head. She was also short of breath.

Afterward, Luciana returned to her rooms and showered again, washing sweat and dirt from her skin and hair. She left the door to the washroom open a few inches so Penny could nose it open. She soaked in the cold water for a while, content to relax in the numbing shower. He stood in front of it, ears perked, and when he whined and stood she turned off the water to listen. Someone knocked at the door.

“Knight Lieutenant?” She recognized the voice of one of the guards.

“Hold a moment,” she called, throwing her voice. Penny whined and nosed the door open as she toweled off. She found a bathrobe in the closet, and quickly dressed, cinching it at the waist. “Enter,” she called. The guard opened the door.

“There’s a messenger from your father with news on the funeral,” he said. “Shall I show him up? Or would you prefer to have him wait in a meeting room in the lower levels?”

“Did he give a name?”

“No, Sir. He only said that he hopes Penny is doing you well.”

“I know who it is, then. Send him up.”

“Yes, Sir.”

She dressed properly, and soon the family’s hound master was in her antechamber. “My Lady,” he said, bowing at the waist and kissing the back of her proffered hand. “I’m glad to see you well. Is Penny helping you?”

“He is. He’s a good dog.”

“One of our best,” he said. “I have a message from your father. He wanted it delivered post-haste, and I apologize for the suddenness of my arrival.”

“It’s no problem.” She took the letter, unfolded it and read while the hound master waited. It told her that the funeral was organized for tomorrow, her fourth and final day of leave. “Tell him I will return to the manor later today,” she said.

“Yes, my Lady.” He took back the folded letter, tucked it into a pocket. “Every one of us in the staff offers our condolences. It was terrible, what you went through. If there is anything that we can do for you, please, let us know.”

“Thank you, Matthew,” she said quietly. “I think I will need time, more than anything.”

“I understand.” He bowed again, and excused himself.

She rested for an hour, checked the clock to see it was just after two in the afternoon. She sighed, dressed in proper attire for a mourning noble, and left the cloak in her room. She buckled her sword to her waist, checked herself in the floor-length mirror on the inside of the closet door, and left. “Does anyone enter the rooms?” she asked the guard who stood outside her door.

“Only cleaning staff, Knight Lieutenant. They dust, wipe, and tidy. SI:7 will occasionally do a sweep check of the Keep.”

“That’s fine. My room does not require cleaning just yet. I’ll be back tonight.”

“Understood, Sir. I’ll pass word along.”

“Thank you.”

It took much longer than normal to make the trip from the Keep to the manor. She was stopped on every corner, sometimes thrice in the same ten foot stretch, by people offering their sympathies, people asking questions, and people demanding answers. She was polite with all save the last kind, and with them, she looked at them as though they were roaches and with her tone reminded them she was a Knight Lieutenant and a noble, and that they had crossed a line. Most backed down quickly.

She reached the manor in the late afternoon with Penny at her side. The guards welcomed her, and Bannister waited for her at the front door. He hugged her wordlessly, and guided her to the family gardens.

“Luciana,” her mother gasped, and enfolded her in a hug. “Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry.” She pulled back, took Luciana’s face in her hands. She kissed both cheeks, and hugged her again. “Oh, my dear daughter.”

She released her, tears tracking down her face. “Mother,” Luciana said quietly. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m... Well,” she said, swallowing thickly. “I don’t imagine I’ll feel right for a long time. But I’ll manage.”

Luciana nodded slowly, turning to Desmond who had stood to approach. He hugged her tightly to his chest, as though afraid she would fall apart. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I heard about what you did. I’m sorry.” She patted his back gently. Ophelia took his place, not nearly as tall but her arms just as tight around Luciana’s waist. She didn’t speak.

“Luciana,” her father said, putting his hands on her shoulders. “There’s nothing I can really say to you to help you. Just know that we all love you. And if there’s anything I can do, please, let me know.”

“I will,” she said quietly. Dania attached herself to Luciana’s hip, wrapping her arms around her. They walked slowly to the patio. The large table had been replaced with a handful of smaller ones, but the chairs remained in a loose circular formation. She sat, Dania taking her lap and curling up, hiding her face in Luciana’s neck. Luciana gently carded her hand through Dania’s loose hair and was silent while the others spoke in low tones. All wore white.

Some dishes of food were brought out, comfort food and finger food to tide the family over until dinner. “We managed to air out the manor,” Bannister joked in a weak voice to Luciana. “But we’re expected to host the usual funeral dinner before the actual...”

“I’m aware.”

“You’ll be there?”

Luciana stared him incredulously. “Of course I will be,” she said, offended.

“Good. I just... I wanted to be sure. It must be hard on you. We all suffer, but you... well.” He cleared his throat. “I would understand if you didn’t want to stick around past the important part. As I understand, you’re leaving for the Basin in two days, in the afternoon.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Will you be alright out there?”

“I’ll be fine. I have my squadron.”

“And your draenei.”

“And my draenei.”

Luciana fell silent again. The family spent hours in the gardens, and only occasionally did someone stand, mostly to use the washroom. When dinner came, it was a silent and oppressive affair. Luciana left soon after.

“You’re returning to the keep?” Bannister asked, following her to the gates. They walked slowly, Penny ever at Luciana’s side.

“Yes. It... It’s quiet there. I keep expecting to see Frederic.”

“I know.” Bannister put his hand on her shoulder, offering comfort. “What about your situation there?”

“The King is understanding. I’m avoiding the Prince.”

“Any reason why?”

“He’s a priest,” she said quietly. “You know how they get when someone’s suffering.”

“Smothering?”

“Yes. And I can’t afford to get close to him when we’re betrothed, especially not in a tentative arrangement. If we were engaged, it would be different. But we haven’t even gone through the confirmation yet.”

“I know how it is,” he soothed. “Alright. Penny goes with you everywhere, huh?”

“Yes. He’s a good dog.”

“Mm. I’m thinking of having the hound master breed him with a terrier. I think the result would be a fantastic dog. Stout and strong like the mastiff, but energetic and loving like the terrier.”

“You could try it.”

“I’ll wait until you leave,” he joked. “Wouldn’t want to distract Penny from your side.”

“Thanks,” she said, a bit dryly.

She returned to the Keep in much the same fashion she’d returned to the manor. Stopped every five feet, verbally assaulting rude citizens, side-stepping ‘sympathetic’ merchants or nobles, and taking every back road she could. When she got to the castle she felt a bit frazzled.

“Welcome back,” one of the stationed Royal Guards said as she passed.

“Knight Lieutenant,” another greeted. Unnerved, she hastened to her room.

“Knight Lieutenant,” her door guard said, stepping aside to grant her entrance. He stopped her with a hand on her forearm. The touch was light, but unforgiving in its metal gauntlet. “The Prince is inside,” he murmured, leaning down. “The King has told us that you need privacy, but the Prince was insistent.”

“I understand,” she said. “He is the Prince. Thank you for the warning.”

“Sir.” He straightened, stepping away to stand next to the door.

The Prince stood beside the near armchair, and turned to face her when she entered. “Luciana,” he said quietly. 

“Hello, Prince Anduin.” She removed her coat, placing it on her bed. “Can I help you with something, Your Highness?”

“I... No,” he said. “I wanted to offer my condolences for your loss,” he said quietly. “As I understand it, you were the one to find him.”

“I was. Penny is an excellent tracker.” The mastiff’s ears perked towards her at the sound of his name. “He also led me to the man responsible and he was apprehended soon after.”

“I can’t say I know what you’re going through,” the Prince said quietly. “But I can offer my ear. I am a priest,” he reminded with a small smile. “And I’m no stranger to loss.”

She paused, only briefly, and then nodded once. “Thank you, Prince Anduin. I do appreciate your concern. I have everything well under control.” He frowned. 

“Alright,” he said evenly. “The offer still stands.” He cast around the room. “I see you have a chessboard set up. Would you care for a game?”

“Certainly.”

The Prince tried to maintain a conversation, but grew discouraged when Luciana only gave the most polite and respectful responses - as though she were speaking to a Prince and not to Anduin.

“Well played, Your Highness,” Luciana said when he trapped her king in a check mate.

“Thank you for the game,” he said, standing. “I won’t keep you any longer. You must be quite busy.”

She bowed slightly at the waist. “It was a pleasure.”

He left in a hurry. She imagined he was a bit disquieted by her impeccable courtesy. She had recently lost a brother to a violent end, and yet she acted slightly aloof, polite, as she would any other day. Even his attempts at conversation had been met with the same cool detachment normally expected of her.

She slept in short intervals that night. Penny woke her several times by licking her chin or her hand, or snorting and sniffing at her hair. When dawn came she dressed, wore her hooded cloak, and patted her thigh for Penny to follow. It was unnecessary as the dog followed her everywhere, but she did it anyway.

“Light be with you, Knight Lieutenant,” her door guard said.

“And you.”

Her cloak hid her from prying eyes and she traveled to the manor unmolested. Some public appearances were necessary, but today, she hid. 

As always, the guards at the gate bowed as she passed. She was met partway to the front door of the manor by the house Seneschal, Brom Greendell. “My Lady,” he greeted. “Lady Mannarie awaits you in your chambers.”

“Thank you, Brom.” She handed off her cloak, which he took and slung over his arm.

Her room door was open. Her mother and both sisters waited inside. “Luciana,” her mother greeted. “Welcome home. Guests still start arriving by noon. The dinner will start at four, and the funeral march will begin at six-thirty. Do you have something you plan to wear?”

“No.”

“I have some ideas,” Ophelia volunteered. She pulled from Luciana’s closet a pair of fitted pants, a blazer and accompanying vest, a shimmering blue tie, her favourite dress shirt, and Luciana’s parade uniform hat. The hat itself was white, like the rest of the clothes, but the visor was black. A golden decoration in the shape of the Alliance crest was centrally located over the front of the hat. “You don’t have any white boots, though.”

“We can find some,” Mannarie said. “It’s almost ten o’clock. Luciana, have you eaten yet?”

“No.”

“Eat, and then dress,” she suggested. “I’ll find you a pair of boots.”

She left the room with Penny in tow. She found her father already in the dining hall. A servant bowed to her and rushed out to fetch her food. “Father,” she greeted.

“Luciana. How are you?”

“Fine. I’ve been meaning to speak with you about something.”

“What is it?” He looked up from his eggs.

“Dania is displaying signs of magic,” she started, allowing a butler to push her chair in for her. “She’s had several future visions, one of which I witnessed become reality. I’d like to have her tested in the Mage Quarter.”

“I see.” His lips thinned. “And if she does have it?”

“Then I suggest she goes to Dalaran. She will be safe there, she will be with others like her, and she can study.”

“You would have me lose another child,” he said.

“You’ve only lost one, Father. Children grow up and become adults. We are still your sons and daughters. But children find their own paths, follow their own hopes and interests. I understand that this is difficult,” she said. “I know. But you cannot hold Dania back because you couldn’t hold Frederic.”

He swallowed thickly and stood up. “Excuse me,” he mumbled, leaving without looking at her. She sighed. A servant placed a plate of food before her, and she asked for her to find something for Penny, as well.

“You can give him the scraps from Father’s meal, too,” she said. “No use in wasting it.”

“My Lady.”

Luciana ate quickly and returned to her room to bathe and dress. As her mother hadn’t yet returned with boots, she wore the ones she had before and sat at her desk to read a while. Partway through a book on night elven art her mother entered with white boots in hand. They were made of fine buckskin leather, stiff and supportive around the foot and ankle and tight around the calf. They laced at the front and were otherwise undecorated.

“Thank you, Mother,” Luciana said. “I quite like them.”

“Good.” The woman nodded curtly. “Dania volunteered to do your hair.”

“I don’t have hair to do,” she said blandly.

“Let her anyway.”

Luciana sat patiently while Dania applied product to her hair, smoothing it over. The end result was tame, formal, and fit perfectly under her hat. It also smelled of spice and cloves. “Thank you, Dania. It’s quite nice. I like the smell.”

“I thought you might,” she said. “People are going to start coming in soon. I hate it. They’re all the same.. How many times do they have to tell me they’re sorry? Or I have their sympathies? I don’t want their sympathies!” she cried. “I want Frederic back.” Luciana held her while she cried. When her tears slowed, Luciana wiped the last ones away with a kerchief.

“I know,” she soothed. “I know. But he’s with the Light now. You’ll see him again someday when you rejoin the Light. But for now, you have a whole life ahead of you. You’ll always remember him and you might always miss him. But nothing is eternal, save the Light. You can think of it like this. I am often away, but I always visit. Well, right now Frederic is away, but you’ll go visit him someday.”

“I still want him back,” Dania pouted.

“I do, too. Come. Let’s go make sure the others are getting ready.”

They checked in on Ophelia, who was with Mannarie trying to coordinate the kitchen staff and the servants. As far as Luciana could tell, the musicians had already been prepared and were already starting to play. Desmond was dressed, but sitting in his chair and crying quietly behind his hand. Dania stayed with him while Luciana went to Bannister’s room. 

He was standing in front of the window, his hands clasped in front of him. “He was too young,” Bannister murmured, seeing Luciana approach from the corner of his eye. “Much too young.”

“So many are.” Luciana stood beside him. He glanced at her for a moment, smiling bitterly.

“How do you do it?” he asked. “You are so stoic, so... flat. Sometimes I doubt you have any feelings, but then you take such care to comfort Mother, while not so long ago you proclaimed she is not your mother.”

“She doesn’t deserve this,” Luciana said. “I am stoic. I have to be. If I let things get to me, even something like this... Do you think I would be alive much longer? How many guards would it take to bring me down?”

He paused, staring down at her. “You really think that would happen?” he said. “You have impeccable self control, Luciana. Better than anyone.”

“I have it because I need it.”

“Is this about that boy?” he asked. “The one from the Military Academy?”

“This is about many things.”

“You know it wasn’t your fault. He hit you with a weapon, you were defending yourself.”

“I lost control.”

“You lost con- ugh, Lucy,” he groaned, bringing a hand to his face to rub at his eyes. “This _is_ about him. What was his name? Conner?”

“Conwell. Bradley Conwell.”

“I know you feel bad about it, Luciana, but you know that one must defend themselves.”

“He was a child.”

“So were you.”

“That’s no excuse. I have fury that must be controlled.”

“You’re not controlling your fury right now, Luciana, you’re bottling up everything.”

“It’s all connected, Bannister. Anything can fuel fury.”

“You need help,” he said, turning to her. “I don’t know what’s going on in your head but something’s not right. You need help. Do you have combat fatigue?” he asked quietly, brow furrowed. He searched her face, biting his lip. “You need to get help, Lucy.”

“I don’t need help, Bannister. I need to return to my place in the field. Stormwind is bad for me.”

“Stormwind is your home.”

“My barrack is my home. Whenever I visit Stormwind, I’m reminded of that.”

He sighed, and pulled her into a quick hug. “Please, Luciana. I’m worried about you. Really worried. Before you leave tomorrow, will you see a priest at the Cathedral? Just to talk to them. Please.”

“Fine.”

“Thank you.”

The manor filled with people before long. Luciana and her entire family mingled with them, taking words of sympathy and small gifts. Cakes, bottles of wine, letters from those who couldn’t come. Someone gifted Bertrand a new overcoat and someone else had a lovely necklace crafted for Mannarie. An envoy from the Royal House brought a message of sympathy from the King and gifts of fresh fruit and a young sapling for the gardens. One Lord tried to take advantage of the occasion by heavily implying it had happened because of Luciana’s betrothal to the Prince, and wouldn’t she prefer marrying someone whose very name wasn’t a danger to her family? Worse, he said it to Luciana herself.

“I appreciate your concern, Lord Ridgewell,” she said. “But perhaps you could educate yourself on the actual nature of the betrothal before speaking so strongly to one above you. I’m sure that if you were to realize the tentative nature of the betrothal, you would be able to more fully shift your concerns to your own family, first.” By indicating that he had clearly missed the point of something every noble should know, and then implying that the state of marriages in his own family was poor at best, she managed to shut him up. “Thank you for your kind words of sympathy, Lord Ridgewell,” she said with a smile.

Dinner was an affair that took up the entire dining hall, and everyone chattered and talked. It was too loud for Luciana’s tastes, but she made sure she appeared completely at ease but also quieted by the reason behind the occasion, something of which she had to remind several guests.

The Seneschal was in charge of timing, and at six twenty, he stood at the head of the table next to Bertrand. “Please, Lords and Ladies, if you would?” He raised his hands and people quieted. “I am sure you are all aware of the sombre nature of this occasion. Young Frederic was taken from us by savage hands. Now, we mourn him. Please join me in a moment of prayer for his young soul.” The Seneschal bowed his head and everyone followed suit, some muttering quietly or touching their forefinger’s first knuckle to their lips in prayer. “Thank you. Now, please stand and join me in the first steps of the funeral march.”

Volunteers from the Cathedral choir sang a haunting dirge as the nobles filed from the manor and gathered before the gate. At six thirty, Seneschal Brom ceded his place at the head of the procession by Mannarie, who had a hand on Ophelia’s shoulder, the other on Dania’s. Bertrand was behind her, flanked by Bannister and Desmond. Luciana brought up the rear with the Seneschal. Two retainers for the family followed them with coats and bags hung over their arms.

The procession marched slowly through the Cathedral Square and into the Cathedral, where they sat at designated pews. Luciana, her elder brothers, and Frederic’s tutor Remy were the pallbearers and had places to either side of the small casket. The top half of the casket was propped open, revealing Frederic’s serene young face. Lucian could hardly hear the priest as he spoke of Frederic’s life and the Light, so intent was she on watching the crowds for signs of trouble.

“Now, join us once more as we walk young Frederic to his family’s crypt, where he may join his forebears in peaceful rest.”

Luciana took her corner, next to Remy, and they slowly marched through the back of the Cathedral to the graveyards of the city. They were beautiful in spring as trees and flowers blossomed along well-kept stone paths. The choir once again sang, and the procession was otherwise silent as they shuffled forward in a solid white line through the rows of graves.

The Amadeus crypt was located at the far end, and Luciana’s shoulder ached by the time they reached it. They descended the stairs with the rest of her family in tow while the priest occupied the rest of the congregation and the Seneschal guarded the entryway.

“Lay him here,” Bertrand said quietly. “Next to his grandfather. That’s it.”

With some effort, Luciana and her two brothers pushed the heavy stone slab over the casket to seal the tomb. There was space between the casket and the insides of the tomb that wouldn’t have been there with an adult-sized casket. Luciana stood silently while the others mourned. Mannarie started to cry again, turning to Bertrand for comfort. Desmond stood behind Ophelia, holding her shoulders. Bannister had his arm around Dania’s shoulders.

When they climbed back out of the crypt, two groundskeepers pushed the stone doors back into place. The Amadeus family rejoined the procession for a prayer led by the Cathedral priest, rhythmic and somber. On their way through the Square, the procession had grown as citizens of the city had joined them. It was not uncommon for the graveyards to be filled for a single funeral depending on what time of day the procession marched through the city, and from where.

Mannarie was not able to speak past her tears. Talia held her as Bertrand spoke, instead. Then, Luciana took the podium.

“When I was ten years old, Father came back to the manor with Frederic,” she started. Her hands loosely gripped the edges of the podium. “The birth was not easy on Mother, who stayed in the maternity ward for several weeks afterward. Frederic was tiny, and squalling. Father handed him to me so that he could fetch a nursemaid. In my arms, within moments, he quieted. His eyes were the lightest blue I had ever seen and I was enchanted. I promised him something. Frederic, I am your big sister, and I will make sure you are okay. For a ten year old girl, this was a very serious promise.

"For three years I watched him grow. I held his hands while he learned to walk, I helped him practice the many words he learned every day. I fed him, carried him in my arms, held him in my lap at breakfast and dinner. When I left for the Military Academy, the hardest part was leaving him behind. He was my baby brother,” she said. Her throat felt tight. “He was my baby brother,” she said thickly. “And I didn’t want to leave him behind. I visited often. Every weekend, we were released from the Academy. I returned to the manor and spent every waking hour with him. The next three years I came home Friday evening to him and whatever new things he had learned. Every weekend held a surprise.

"When I graduated from the Academy, he was six years old. Old enough to understand that I was leaving Stormwind. Old enough to understand that he wouldn’t be seeing me nearly as much as before. He threw the worst fit I’ve ever seen,” she chuckled. “And every day I’d wake up to a letter from Frederic that he’d had Desmond, or Bannister, or Father, write for him. That was the best part of my day.

When I became a Knight, Frederic told me he was proud of me. He told me that one day, he wanted to be a Knight like me. Because what else would he be? A Chevalier?” There were some chuckles from the crowd. “No, of course not. His big sister was a Knight, and so he dedicated himself to learning all he could about evil monsters and heroic knights. He...” She stopped, and dabbed at her eyes with a kerchief. “He told me, the last time I was in the city, that he wanted to play knights when I returned. He didn’t get the chance.” She swallowed, worked her throat for a few moments to clear it. “Now he is with the Light, with his forebears, many of which were Knights themselves. He can play knights with them until the day comes when I see him again. Rest with the Light, Frederic. I love you.”

She stepped down, bowing her head to hide her face. Bannister took her place with a short few words, and then he welcomed the crowds to visit the graves of any they had lost and to remember them as he remembered Frederic, as was tradition for a funeral.

They returned to the manor in the evening. Servants had already cleared the dining hall, returning it to its usual state. The envoy from the Royal House remained, and approached Luciana when he spotted her.

“Knight Lieutenant,” he said, bowing. “The King requests that you reconsider your impeding return to the Arathi Basin.”

“I have made my choice and my reasons clear to him already.”

“I was told to expect as much. He then asks that you consider speaking to a priest while you are there.”

“I will consider it.”

“I shall take my leave. Thank you for your time, Knight Lieutenant.”

She watched him leave with a blank face. Slowly, she turned to climb the stairs. She wanted to lie down, to forget everything from her promotion to the funeral. But she knew she couldn't. Devon would be waiting for her in her dreams, and now Frederic would too.


	15. A Bond of Mithril

Luciana’s men welcomed her back with a night in the garrison tavern. “I dunno if you’ve heard,” Lars told her over his beer. “But we’re being transferred. Pandaria! Can you believe it? We’re going to serve as an auxiliary force under Admiral Taylor.”

“Where did you hear that?” Luciana asked.

“I get around.” Lars winked at her.

“Where’s the scout?”

“Back at the barracks. Said she didn’t feel like coming.”

Luciana was aware that isolating yourself from your squadron could only spell trouble, and went to find the scout. “Jillian,” she called, standing in front of the door to her barrack. “I know you’re in there. I also know you can hear me.”

“What do you want?” A woman with black hair drawn back into a ponytail slammed the door open. “You go around botherin’ everyone?”

“No, just the people in my Company,” Luciana responded easily.

“Oh. Knight Lieutenant. Sorry.” Jillian stepped aside to let Luciana enter.

“You’re staying here while the rest are at the tavern?” she asked, looking around at the room. It was much the same as before, only Devon’s bed having changed. It was now Jillian’s bed and some of her clothes were strewn over the mattress. “Usually people would stay with their squadron.”

“Ain’t my squadron,” Jillian said.

“Not yet, and they never will be if you isolate yourself. I don’t know what it’s like where you’re coming from. Why don’t you tell me?” Luciana sat on the chest at the foot of Jillian’s cot and watched her, waiting.

“You serious? The fuck does it matter?” she snapped.

“It matters that you’re under my command and I need to know about you in order to effectively utilize your talents. I know about all my men. Even Enaeon.”

“And what if I didn’t feel like sharing?” Jillian said.

“I’ll take a few guesses. I know you’re from the Gilnean Royal Hunters,” Luciana started. “You’re probably a bit upset at being separated from the rest of them. I know the group hunts in packs, and you might have had friends there from when Gilneas fell to the curse. Not only have you been split up, you were given a Stormwind tabard and Stormwind equipment when you joined the Stormwind Imperial Armed Forces. That’s got to sting.”

Jillian was sneering, now. “What do you know?” she asked. “You don’t know shit about us.”

“No, I don’t. That’s why I was asking. A squadron is your family, Jillian. If you can’t trust anyone in the world, you can trust your squad mates. Anyone will tell you - they’d betray their own blood before they stab their squad mate in the back. You eat together, sleep together, fight together, train together, shower together. Eight other people who’ve got your back, no matter what. You know, I have four siblings. I had five. I left them behind when I joined the Military Academy. I was on my own for a number of years. I was assigned to my squadron and now, they are my siblings. They’re my family just as much as my own mother and father. It took a while, and some edges needed smoothing, but I’ve trusted them with my life a number of times. I’d trust them with my little sister’s life.”

“I had my own pack,” Jillian said. “We were good together. Then we were told, Stormwind needs scouts. You go here, you go there. Would you like it if you got split up from your precious squadron?”

“No, I wouldn’t. You ever heard the expression ‘cut off your nose to spite your face’? It means you’re doing something out of spite that’s actually just hurting yourself. You had a pack, and I’m sorry it was taken away. But you’re here now and you need to adapt. Either you grow up a bit and try to fit together with the rest of the puzzle, or you wind up dead because you tried to do it all alone. It’s rough out here. I’ve lost two good men and it’s come close with some of the others. I’m not going to lose two scouts in one month.”

“I can follow orders fine,” Jillian growled. “Without getting buddy-buddy with a bunch of children.”

“I’m trying to be nice here, Jillian. I am still your superior officer. If I don’t feel you’re a good fit, I can have you discharged and we’ll get someone else. I’m not going to risk the lives of my men because you didn’t want to make new friends.” Luciana stood up. “If you want to be a part of this squadron, do the duty handed to you by your king and supplement our strength with yours, we’ll do the rest. If you want to keep having a tantrum, feel free to do so on the way back to Teldrassil. It’s up to you.”

Luciana left her to her thoughts, and rejoined her men in the tavern. “Where’s the hound dog?” Christopher asked when she sat. Luciana put her hand on the back of his head and slammed it into the table. Everyone around them fell silent.

“The next person who calls Jillian a dog is getting my foot down their throat,” she said calmly. “You will call her Jillian, or Scout, or Rourke. And if you can come up with a nickname she likes, you can call her that. But you will not. Insult. My. Scout,” she growled. “Is that clear?”

“Yes, Sir,” Christopher groaned, holding his bloody nose.

“Go get that cleaned up, soldier. And bring me a beer when you come back.”

Two weeks passed in a blur of training and drills. Luciana often had the Knights train their squadrons independently, as the Knights were responsible for knowing the strengths and weaknesses of their soldiers. Every few days she’d gather the entire Company for basic training, as she wanted them to get used to seeing each other in uncomfortable ways. It would happen in the field and she didn’t want mistakes made because someone wasn’t used to people in another squadron seeing them naked.

Part of the reason Jillian was so defensive was that people thought her being a worgen was a good source for joke material. Luciana remedied that by ordering her to spend a week in worgen form. Seeing her outrun, out-climb, outmanoeuvre and overpower everyone else brought it home that worgen were not to be trifled with. Her teeth alone scared quite a few people off of dog jokes.

“I didn’t think it would work,” Jillian commented to Luciana. “I was thinking you were barking mad when you told me to take this form.” She held out her clawed hands, laughing roughly. “But it worked. You mind if I stay like this? I actually prefer it. Better hearing, you see.” She swiveled her ears to and fro and Luciana smiled.

“You can take whichever form you want, as long as it doesn’t interfere with your duties. Though I don’t see how it would - your thumbs still work.”

Luciana was having her Company run her favourite exercise - suicides - when she was joined by Knight Captain Servol. “Sir,” she said, saluting.

“At ease. I’ve got deployment papers for you. Pandaria.”

“I thought the fighting there was fading off after Orgrimmar,” she said.

“It is. You’ll be there mostly to provide backup to locals who’re trying to rebuild. They’ve got some crazy wildlife. Stags the size of tanks. You heard of the mantid?”

“Only a little. Insectoids, or something.”

“Yeah. You’ll have a report on the situation there in two days. Deployment is in one week. You and your Company will take the SNS Red Sun Rising. It’s a heavy ship, but from what I’ve heard it can break waves twice its size. There are shamans on board, anyway, to provide wind when the sails are empty. Two week trip at the most.”

“Understood, Sir. Who will I be serving under?”

“Your Company will take direct orders from Admiral Taylor. He has good relations with the Pearlfin jinyu, who are the people you’re being sent to help. Jade Forest,” he said. “The rest will be in your reports.”

“Thank you, Sir. I’ll alert my Knights.”

Exactly three weeks later, the SNS Red Sun Rising weighed anchor just off the coast of Pandaria. An immense spread of green forest awaited them.

“I really hope there aren’t giant spiders,” Lawrence said quietly. “I hate giant spiders.”

“Maybe they’ll have cave spiders, instead,” Kain teased. “They’re not giant, but they’re still pretty big. Long hairy legs, beady eyes the size of your head...”

Luciana tuned them out, turning to Knight Grayson. “Gather the Company on deck,” she said.

“Sir.” He saluted sharply before turning to obey.

When her Company was gathered on the deck, she faced them, standing in parade rest. “113th Company! Motivation check!”

“Hoorah!”

“Good to know you all had your oatmeal this morning!” she quipped. “Before you is the Jade Forest, home to a number of species and races. If you read the reports you would know this. We are here to assist the Pearlfin jinyu in reclaiming and rebuilding their homes after the effects of our war ravaged them. They are fish-like humanoids. If I hear one comment, one joke that crosses the line into disrespectful - and you all know where that line is - I will be furious. And you won’t like me when I’m furious. Isn’t that right, Lars?”

“Sir, yes Sir!”

“How was it that you described me?”

“Shit-your-pants terrifying, Sir!”

“Do you want to see me like that again?”

“Not if I can help it, Sir!”

“Then don’t make me angry,” she growled. “113th Company! Board the rowboats! We’re heading out!”

She climbed into the last rowboat, joined by Enaeon and George. Both were mostly silent individuals, and the ride to shore was quiet. The soldiers regrouped once they were on the beach, and Luciana had them spread out into individual squadrons. “We’ll march close by, but we need to move quickly,” she said. “Hozen in the area have been known to ambush slower groups. Send your scouts to me regularly, or I’ll assume you ran into trouble and come screaming down on you.”

“Sir!” She received three salutes, and the Knights were off with maps and their soldiers.

The Pearlfin jinyu were delighted to see them, welcoming them with open arms and seafood dishes. “Taylor told us of your company,” a jinyu named Bold Karasshi warbled. He was a bit taller than a male night elf, and his bulbous eyes were bright and constantly rotating in their sockets. “We welcome you to Pearlfin Lake.”

“Thank you,” Luciana said. “It’s an honour to be here. Anything that we can do to help, and we’ll do it,” she promised. “We are the 113th Company of the Stormwind Army. I am Knight Lieutenant Amadeus. Knights Grayson, Oaken, and Plains,” she introduced, pointing to each in turn. “They are in charge of their individual squadrons, lined up behind them. The fourth squadron is my own. We name our squadrons after their Knights, so mine is Amadeus squadron, and hers is Oaken squadron.”

“I see.” Bold Karasshi nodded wisely. “We were told you are here to help reclaim our homes from the hozen.”

“That’s right,” she said firmly. “We’ll do whatever we can.”

“The elders will be pleased to hear that.”

The Pearlfin were welcoming, and the food was different, but still more than edible. Luciana developed a taste for the miniscule fish eggs they cultivated. The local fauna was dangerous at best, and it took some painful wounds to learn how to deal with each species. Hozen, for their part, were like children - if children had the strength and agility of fully grown gorillas. They lost three soldiers in the first month, though thankfully none of Amadeus Squadron were killed. They nearly lost Lars and Daniel, but the Pearlfin had a handful of very skilled healers at their disposal and with their help, Enaeon saved the two men.

At the end of the first month, the Company was sitting in on some sort of ceremony. The Pearlfin had quickly adjusted to having them around, and Luciana had a constant rapport with a few of their elders. Her attempts to assist them in rebuilding homes while fighting the hozen away from the area had been immensely successful. Taylor’s notes on jinyu customs and culture had paved the way for Alliance commanders like Luciana to befriend them.

The ceremony, they found out, was to induct a new elder into their circle of leaders. They were an oligarchy, led by experienced and older members of previous generations. It seemed that the older a jinyu was, the wiser and calmer they were. They grew more sensitive to the voice of the waters, as they said, with each passing year. Some of the elders were waterspeakers and could summon images of ancestors to advise them in times of dire need.

“It is a great honour to stand beside the waterspeaker during the ceremony,” Bold Karasshi said to Luciana as he draped a length of cloth around her, much like a toga. It was all shades of blue and green, and shimmered like the bright fronds that grew in the shallows of the lake.

“What will it entail? Am I expected to do anything?”

“You are only expected to stand beside him,” Bold Karasshi said. “The waterspeaker will do everything. If he calls on you, then you simply do as he asks. If you are called to by the water... well, that never happens,” he chuckled wetly. Jinyu, it seemed, always sounded like they were surrounded by water. It was a quirk that Luciana had to warn people not to mock. She’d thought it would be obvious, but after overhearing someone in the Oaken squadron crack a joke, she reminded them of her threat and they wisely kept away from jinyu jokes while in potential earshot of the jinyu or their fearsome Knight Lieutenant.

The ceremony passed without incident. Luciana stood in as ambassador of her people, and the waterspeaker spoke in his native tongue, only using Common when he asked Luciana to hold a basin of water for him, which he used to bless the newly appointed elder, and then when he thanked the Alliance for their friendship and continued efforts in aiding the jinyu to reclaim their lost lands and artifacts.

During their stay in the Jade Forest, they witnessed two more ceremonies. The jinyu were intersex, they learned, and reproduced in a way that reflected that. They also had a custom similar to marriage, but it only lasted until the offspring of the two - or three - joined jinyu were of a certain age.

Luciana inquired carefully into the details, stating that she was ever curious to learn about other races. She first answered any questions they had for her, explaining how Stormwind was ruled by a monarch with a noble class to aid and advise them. She herself was a noble, and gave them a few details on the functions and uses of a noble House. She also explained human reproduction when prompted, and in turn received an explanation of jinyu reproduction and social customs.

She and her Company spent three months with the Pearlfin, and were successful in reclaiming a number of lost settlements with minimal casualties. She received commendations from Admiral Taylor for her efforts, and a small place in the jinyu’s history songs, which were added to every four months. They recognized three seasons rather than four, and that was another interesting conversation that Luciana was careful to write down in detail.

Two weeks prior to their return to the Arathi garrison, they entered a skirmish with the hozen. When the hozen saw Pearlfin entering the ruins of a village they had previously occupied, the monkey-like creatures had swung into furious action in revenge for being pushed back out of the area. Knight Hailey Oaken, her squadron acting as a guard for the Pearlfin at the time, had reacted quickly and had immediately sent the fastest jinyu racing back for reinforcements. Luciana ordered Amadeus squadron to remain in the Pearlfin’s main settlement in case of an attack, and sent Grayson and Plains squadron to Oaken’s aid. The three managed to fight off the hozen attackers and severely damage their remaining forces, making a second attack unlikely for at least a month while the hozen recovered from the debilitating loss. However, on their way out of the lakes, they fell upon Pearlfin Village, which was soon the subject of a full invasion.

Luciana, at the first sign of real trouble, asked the elders if she could take full command of their forces for the duration of the attack. With her experience and knowledge of foreign tactics they allowed it, and soon she was using Bold Karasshi as a translator to hand out orders to the Pearlfin.

“Raise the barriers! Ranged attackers, keep an eye on the treeline! Healers, to the center of the village! Warriors, surround them and show them your backs! Defend the healers at all costs! Without them, we are lost! Scouts, spread out and warn us of incoming hozen forces! If you are in danger of being spotted or captured, flee and return to the village! Knights, see to your soldiers! I want minimal casualties!”

The first few attacks were mere trickles compared to the storm that fell when the majority of the hozen, furious at the loss of their captured lands and goods, assaulted Pearlfin Village.

“They’re pushing us back!” Jillian said, her fur spattered with gore. “We can’t hold out much longer like this!”

Luciana cast around, spotted something, and smiled viciously. “Bring me the other scouts,” she said. “You four worgen are going to fetch me something.” It took almost five full minutes to separate the scouts from the fight. “Scouts! You are Gilnean Royal Hunters! Today you’re going to prove your mettle as hunters. You’re going to go out there,” she said, pointing north. “You’re going to find the biggest, strongest tigers in the forest, and you’re going to bring them here. And they’re going to feast on hozen guts. Any problems with that?”

The hunters looked at each other, grinned toothily, and looked back to Luciana. “Sir, yes Sir,” Jillian growled. They took off, running faster than any horse on their four paws. Their lithe forms flowed past the battle, and Luciana joined her men, roaring and wading into the fight and hacking at exposed furry limbs.

When the worgen returned, it was to a cacophony of hozen terror. They feared the local tigers, something that Luciana had learned in her conversations with the Pearlfin elders, and by bringing tigers into the fray, the hozen were frightened that the tigers had somehow allied with the foreign bare-faced humans.

Only four tigers came back with the worgen, but they were larger than sabers and powerful. And, most importantly, they were hungry. The battle lasted only an hour afterward, including the hozen’s hasty and hopefully permanent retreat. “Scouts!” Luciana called. Grayson’s scout found her first. “How did you tame the tigers?” she asked curiously.  
“Told them they could eat however much of the hozen they wanted,” he said. “They get all the corpses they want for their young. A good deal, considering the piles.” He indicated said piles of corpses with a dark laugh. “You need them for anything else?”

“No, you can release them,” she said, watching the tigers leave together with a curious gaze. “Hm.”

Clean up took longer than the actual battle. The last week of their deployment, the 113th Company was continuously dragging hozen corpses to shore. At night the local tigers would drag the bodies further into the forest, where they’d feast well on them. “I hope they develop a taste for hozen,” Jillian murmured. “Disgusting little shits.” She shuddered, her fur rising along her shoulders.

Luciana was quite happy with how the tour had turned out. Apparently, so was Admiral Taylor. He sent word from his position in the Krasarang Wilds to congratulate her on her brilliant tactics and victory over the hozen, as well as her work deepening the friendship between Pearlfin and Alliance. She sent him her notes, enough to fill three or four books, and asked that he have a scholar organize them into something that could be used to educate future Alliance soldiers who might be deployed to the Jade Forest. She mentioned that her own Company had spent some time making callous and offensive jokes, which was something she did not tolerate, and said that she also mentioned it in her notes.

The Stormwind Naval Ship _Red Sun Rising_ was sent to retrieve them at the three month mark. Luciana left her mithril ring with Bold Karasshi. “Mithril is one of the most durable metals known to us,” she said, handing him the ring. It shone silvery-white under the sun. “Once it’s been tempered, it’s nigh unbreakable. Take this as a reminder, Bold Karasshi, that the Alliance protects its own.”

“Thank you, my friend,” he said, clutching the ring tightly in a smooth-scaled hand. “Here.” He pulled the cord of his necklace over his head, flattening the frill that ran the length of his cranium so it wouldn’t get caught. On the cord was a fragment of shiny black clam shell, decoratively carved and worn smooth with time. Bold Karasshi told her that his name was carved into the pearly inside of the shell in the jinyu tongue. “Remember that the Pearlfin will always welcome you as a friend,” he told her. “Should you one day find yourself here again, come and visit us.”

“I will remember,” she swore, slipping the cord over her head.

It took twenty days at sea to return to the Arathi Basin garrison, and when they hit land, Luciana was relieved. She had spent the last few days in the ship’s hold, seasick and suffering. She was given a half-day to recover, along with a few others who had also suffered from the nauseating and incessant rocking.

She spent the night in the garrison’s chapel. It had been years since she’d even thought of confession, but she felt now would be an appropriate time. She sat in the booth, and soon a priest joined her on the other side of a screen. It was more common in the army to hide the faces of the confessor so that the soldiers would still feel at ease with them should they ever need to be healed.

“What brings you to confession?” the priest asked. By the slight accent, Luciana could tell she was a night elf.

“It’s been years,” she murmured. “But recently, things have been... difficult.”

“Tell me about your troubles.”

“I’m a berserker. But I’ve never had real trouble controlling my anger since I was thirteen. I joined the Military Academy that year, and I’d always known that I had something... some beast inside me. I was always aware of it. I just didn’t know what it was or what it could make me capable of until I killed a boy in the Academy. He hit me over the head with a wooden sword he snuck into the mess hall, just about knocked me out. I... I just started hitting him. I didn’t stop until someone knocked me out. All I could think was, attack. He’s attacking me. Fight back. Fight him.”

“Go on,” the priest said. Her voice was smooth, and reminded Luciana vaguely of honey.

“I made a pretty solid leash and kept it tight for a while. When I graduated from the Academy, I started to let it out, a bit at a time. I could fight harder for longer, I was faster and meaner than the others. I’m a warrior,” she said. “I’m made to break things. I’m made to kill. And when I found a place that I could do that, where I could be the warrior, it was like I was breathing for the first time. I’d been drowning for so many years that I’d forgotten what it was like to breathe.

"I lost a soldier when I first became a Knight. My squadron was newly named for me, and in our second battle in the Basin, he died. I didn’t know him very well and I barely felt anything while some of the others were truly mourning. People die, in the army. When they started to flag, I had to be the one to tell them to pick up their shit and keep marching. They were endangering everyone else by slacking so much. They hated me for it. Sometimes I wonder if they still do.

"I lost my scout, months ago. Devon. He was a smart kid, deadly with knives and always ready to play a round of Hangman with the boys. He always had a pack of cards on him. He died with an orc ax halfway into his gut. I couldn’t blame the healer. He had seven other people to look after. I try not to blame myself, but it’s hard. I’m supposed to be able to get everyone out alive. I’m smart enough. Why couldn’t I think of something? But I can’t stay down too long. I have other people, people who are still alive, that need me to lead. Keep marching, I tell myself. The Light is with me, people say, but I haven't felt that in a long time. Too much happened. I can't believe that anymore.

"Right after, I lost control and did something I shouldn’t have. The man who heard me telling my aunt about it, that something was his signal. He took my baby brother, cut him into pieces and put him in a bag and threw it on a trash heap. I lost control, and a nine year old boy died for it. He was going to be ten a week after. He... I practically raised him. He was like my own son. And now his other sisters, his brothers, have to go on without him. I lost control, I willingly let go. The second time I do it, and both times someone died for it. For my mistake.” She wiped at her eyes, refusing to cry. “I can’t. I can’t do it. I’m betrothed, but every time I go back to the city, something terrible happens. This is my home. The army is where I belong. I can’t sleep when I go to the city. I don’t eat, I don’t sleep, and people die. I... I have to stay here. I feel wrong, outside.”

“That feeling is only a product of your own assumptions,” the priest said. “You see the city as a terrible thing, as a trap, and your body reacts to your mind. Change the way you see things, and it will change the way you feel.”

“That’s easy to say,” Lucian said. “But how can I go back when I know my brother won’t be there? When people try to con me, trap me, change me? I can’t be what they want. I’m only me. I’m a warrior, a berserker with a tight leash. One day that’s going to snap. I can’t keep it down forever, and I’d rather be surrounded by people who can kill me than people who will die under my hands.”

“You see your fury as an enemy,” the priest said. “But your fury is you. If you fear yourself, you will never be able to live fully. You must learn to love yourself, your fury, as you loved your brother. Treat your fury as a friend, trust it to know when it is time to cause pain. Your fury is a part of you, just as your arm or your leg is a part of you. Your arm and your leg are parts of your daily life. So, too, is your fury. By holding it back out of fear you are holding yourself back, and you can do nothing but damage to yourself by doing so. Your fury is your strength, warrior.”

“My family is afraid of me,” she said. “My squadron is terrified of seeing me fight. I can’t...”

“You can only be yourself, warrior. There are people who love you, who love your fury, who love your hands meant for breaking. A hammer is meant for breaking, but it is also meant for building, for blacksmithing. Your fury is your strength, and you are the only one who can decide how to use that strength, whether to break or to forge or to build. It is a part of you. Do not try to cut the fury from your chest.” Luciana winced. “It would be akin to cutting out your own heart.”

“Sometimes I think that would be best for everyone.”

“You have people who would greatly miss you. Look at the people around you, warrior. And let yourself see the love in their hearts. Let yourself see the love they feel for you. Do not be afraid of them.”

“It hurts.”

“It will hurt, just as an infected cut hurts. You must open it, drain the rot in order for it to heal. And then, it will not hurt.”

“It’s frightening. What if I hurt them?”

“If you allow yourself to touch them, you will realize that you will not hurt them. Your fury responds to you. If you touch someone with the thought of hurting them, you will. If you touch them with the thought of embracing them, of causing joy, you will. The way you see something will dictate how it feels. See your fury as your strength, your friend, and it will be so.”

“Thank you, priest,” Luciana murmured.

“The Light is with you, child. Whether or not you see it, it shines brightest on those with the greatest hearts. And your heart is great.”

The priest left first, and Luciana took a few minutes to get herself back under control. She didn’t want to cry in the middle of the chapel. She didn’t want to cry at all.

She slept in the officer’s quarters for a few nights. She needed space to think. She told her Knights to train the squadrons as a team, as they had to be familiar with each other, able to work in tandem, just in case she wasn’t around to give orders. She did paperwork, wrote out reports on their time in the Jade Forest, wrote to Admiral Taylor to ask what he was going to do with his copy of her notes, and sent word home on her more recent adventures.

There was an awards ceremony a week after their return to the garrison. Knight Captain Servol presided over it, and awarded the few fallen members of the 113th Company with White Stars, a medal of honour to those who fell in service of the Alliance. He also awarded a Blue Heart to Oaken and Grayson squadrons’ healers for their efforts in the Jade Forest, and the battle with the hozen. The draenei, a female paladin and a male priest, had exhausted themselves saving the lives of those around them, and both had nearly died on two separate occasions. The people they had healed had been able to keep fighting, allowing them to win the fight.

“To Knight Lieutenant Amadeus,” he said. “For strategic use of the unique skills of those under her command, who by utilizing the abilities of the Gilnean Royal Hunters who serve as scouts in the First Legion, brought victory to the Alliance over odds stacked high against her, we award her with a Red Heart.” He pinned it to her chest next to her other medals, and offered a quirky smile as he muttered just loud enough for her to hear. “You growing a collection?” he joked.

“Yep,” she said quietly. He snorted in laughter, and turned back to the lines of soldiers standing at ease before the stage.

After the ceremony, Knight Captain Servol pulled her aside. “How are you feeling lately, Luciana?” he asked. “When you came back from your last leave, you looked about dead.”

“I lost my brother less than a week prior,” she said.

“I know. And right before that, you lost a squad mate.”

“I saw a priest,” she sighed. “First night back on base. I went to confession. I’m fine, Captain. Really.”

“If you’re sure. I’m giving 113th Company leave, one squadron at a time.”

“Oaken first,” she said quietly. “Plains. Amadeus. Grayson.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, Sir. I’ll run drills with them for a couple of weeks. It’s fine. Really,” she insisted. “I’m made of stern stuff. It’ll take more than a dead brother to bring me down.”

“It’s not about that,” the Captain sighed. “You’re under a lot of pressure, Luciana. That mess with your family didn't set you up well in the beginning. Now you have the betrothal, a promotion, two deaths, a new healer, a new scout, deployment to Pandaria... You need a break.”

“Being in the garrison isn’t a hardship for me, Sir,” she pointed out. “It’s basically my home. I actually like it here. It’s structured, I get fed enough, I’m with my squadron. And I can be physical. In Stormwind, I can hardly do anything physical. I think that might be the worst part. Holding myself like this all the time.” She puffed out her chest and held herself like a pompous Lord, and Leon barked a laugh.

“Alright, alright. If you’re sure. I’ll go fill out the papers for it. Go easy on yourself, Luciana. You don’t have to chain yourself down to give others more room.”

“I don’t,” she said, and it sounded a lot like a question.

“You do. You need a lot of space, Luciana. Take it. Other people will find their space elsewhere, without stepping on your fingers.”

He patted her shoulder and left before she could think of a response. Frowning, she followed the footsteps of her soldiers to the tavern. Jillian was in her human form, unusual for her. But, considering the heat that was quickly building despite the open doors and windows, it was understandable.

Luciana drank water that night, keeping an eye on her soldiers past the rowdy tavern music. They tended to lose a bit of control over large motor functions when they were drunk. Flailing, excitable arms were often the instigators of fights, and if she could avoid that she would.


	16. Varian

Luciana took ship to Stormwind with her squadron when Plains squadron returned. Five days with her soldiers, including one night which was spent sleeping in a pile of four people on two cots pushed together while Enaeon looked on in bemusement, and she was in the city once more.

She breathed deeply, trying to be optimistic. Sure, someone had died last time, but that wasn’t going to happen again. Hopefully she wouldn’t find another small child who was related to her by blood in pieces in a sack on a pile of stinky trash with semen in his anus.

She growled at herself, shook her head sharply to physically dispel the images from her mind, and started walking. She hurried up the massive staircases, relishing the burn in her legs, and took her time walking through the city. It was familiar to her, despite the bad memories. She enjoyed the Mage Quarter, at any rate. She ate brunch in the Blue Recluse, and perused their selection of pastries.

“What’s the most fattening thing you have? I want the most calories per bite,” she said. In mild shock, a man in a white apron covered in flour pointed out several things. She bought four flaky chocolate filled croissants, two butter pecan tarts, and a cake. She ate the cake one piece at a time as she walked into the Trade District, relishing the sugary sweet icing. It tickled at the back of her throat.

She cleaned her hands off in the canal, and dropped the empty cake box in a public trash bin. Luciana eventually made her way to the Cathedral Square, walking through it to reach the fields beyond, where her family estate was located. She nodded to the guards at the gates, who bowed as she passed.

“Welcome back, Lady Luciana,” a groundskeeper said as she walked by.

“Thank you.”

Ophelia greeted her at the front door. “Dania’s gone to Dalaran,” she said quickly. “Father said she’d visit often. I don’t think she knows you’re here.”

“I’ll write to her,” Luciana soothed. “I’ll get her address from Father and write every week. When she did leave?”

“Last month. Well, three weeks ago.”

“I missed your birthday, didn’t I?” Luciana mused. “You’re fourteen now.”

“Yes, you did. I expect a wonderful present,” Ophelia said, pouting for only a moment before she hugged Luciana. “I’m glad you’re back. I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Luciana said, kissing the top of her head. “I did get you a tart.” She handed over a pecan tart, to which Ophelia made a sound of absolute delight. “Will that hold you until I can get you a late birthday present? Can you ever forgive me?”

“I forgive you!” Ophelia said, smiling. “But only if you get me something before you leave. How long are you here for?”

“Three days,” Luciana said. “Where are the others?”

“Desmond and Bannister are out on official Chevalier business, out in the forest,” she said, walking beside Luciana through the manor. “Father is in Ironforge, but he’s supposed to be back late tonight. Mother is with the tailors, trying to think of something for the upcoming ball at Lord Pembrooke’s mansion.”

“So it’s just us.”

“Well,” Ophelia said, hesitating. “I had a...”

“It’s alright,” Luciana soothed. “I don’t expect you to entertain me. What do you have?”

“I have a rehearsal,” she said. “I’m playing in a production of The Summer’s Bite. It’s about a wolf hunter who spends his whole life hunting wolves, only to realize that they’re not evil - they’re only attacking sheep because the farmers are pushing them out of the land.”

“It sounds interesting,” Luciana said. “Is it based on a book? I think I read a similar story a few years back.”

“Yes, it’s from Wolf Summer by Hemet Nesingwary.”

“When is the play?”

“In a month,” Ophelia said. “On the twenty-second to the twenty-fifth. Will you be there?” she said.

“I don’t know, Ophelia. I can try.”

“That’s good enough,” she sighed. “Maybe I can get one of those recording devices so you can watch it when you visit again.”

“I’d like that,” Luciana said quietly. “I’m proud of you, Ophelia. You found something you enjoy.”

“Thank you.”

Luciana bathed for a while, and when she was out and getting dressed, she heard a familiar bay. She rushed to dress, her years in the army serving her well as she managed to get all of her clothes on in record time. Not a minute later something heavy collided with her door. She opened it, grinning widely. “Penny!” she crowed.  
Penny howled, jowls swinging, and hopped up a few times in excitement. His stubby tail wagged hard enough to shake his rump and he brushed against her legs, overjoyed, barking and whining.

“Yes, I know!” Luciana cried. “I know! I missed you too! Oh, you’re such a good dog. Yes you are!”

The hound master, out of breath, leaned against her door. “Oh, I’m so sorry, my Lady,” he panted. “He got away from me.”

“It’s perfectly fine, hound master,” she said, smiling. “Penny’s my best friend. Aren’t you?” She held his head up, kissed it a few times and ignored the drool. “Bannister mentioned before I left that he was thinking of breeding Penny to a terrier,” she said.

“Ah, yes! We did indeed do that. The pups are two months, now. Would you like to see them?”

“I certainly would.”

She followed the hound master to the enclosure, where a dozen or so hounds bayed at the sight of her. She stuck her hands through the fence and got many licks and a few nips for her efforts. “The pups are inside right now. Just got their inoculations, so they’re a bit slow,” Matthew said.

“That’s fine.”

“They’re going to be much smaller than Penny,” he said. “But probably a solid forty pounds each. Their terrier mother passed on her love of digging. They’ll make fine fox hunters, maybe bear hunters with the right training.”

“Oh,” Luciana said, smiling. There were six puppies, with floppy limbs and rose ears, crawling over each other and playing with rope toys and chewing beef bones. “They’re beautiful. Their coats are orange!” she said.

“Almost. Very interesting shade of tan,” the hound master said. “I think we could make a new breed out of them.”

“Hound terriers?” she suggested. “Mastiff terriers? Orange terriers?” The pups were locked into the room with a fence covering the bottom half of a doorway. She stepped over it carefully, and was immediately surrounded by curious puppies. Yips, yaps, yelps, growls, and whines accompanied sharp little teeth and batting paws. “They’re a bit handsy,” she commented.

“Yes, I’ve noticed that. Watch, offer one a toy.”

She took a bone, held it up and shook it. A puppy reached up with a paw and tried to hook its wrist around the bone to pull it down to an eager mouth. “Oh my,” she said, smiling widely. “That’s adorable!”

She repeated the experiment with the other puppies, using the rope as well. A puppy on its side on the floor tried to use both paws to grab at the rope, pulling it to its mouth. Another puppy tried to bat at her chin with its paws, hitting her nose, her chest, and her cheek. Two pups, play fighting in the middle of the room, reared up with paws in the air, barking in their high-pitched puppy voices.

“Boxers,” she said. “They’re like boxers. Look at them.” The fighting puppies used their paws to bat at the other, nipping and barking as they did so. “Boxer terriers.”

“That’s a good name,” the hound master said. “Boxer terriers. Smart little blighters.”

“Big chests, too.”

“That would be the mastiff blood. Good for dragging animals out of their burrows.”

“Find more dogs like Penny and their mother,” Luciana said. “Refine the traits - intelligence, handy paws, strong chest and shoulders, and friendliness to humans. I quite like the ears, too.”

“Rose ears.”

“Yes. They’re not very common. Can you do it?”

“Of course I can. I’m the best breeder in Elwynn.”

“This one appears to have an under bite,” she said, inspecting a pup’s teeth.

“Yep. Good for biting, and holding on.”

“Keep that in the line, then. It gives them character. And when the pups are grown, I want one. Penny’s getting a bit old and I like having a dog with me.”

“Aye, my Lady.” He tipped his hat as she left.

A servant brought her a letter when she returned to the manor. “A message, my Lady, from His Majesty,” she said, bowing her head and offering the letter.

“Thank you,” Luciana said. “Was it delivered here?”

“Yes, to the Seneschal by messenger.”

 

_Knight Lieutenant Luciana,_

_Admiral Taylor’s report mentioned your move with the worgen scouts. You remembered that they are hunters, and utilized their skills. A brilliant move. Every time I hear about you I grow more convinced that you are the right choice._

_I have been meeting with Lady Talia Amadeus regularly to dispute the terms of the betrothal. She argues that it should be kept tentative, that your place in the army puts us in danger of losing you at any time, that another match should be found. As you are aware, that’s not happening._

_We are both aware of the fact that you want to remain in the army for a number of reasons, which I respect and will continue to respect. I feel it should be mentioned that you can be a Princess as well as an officer, but once you are engaged, a field position might be considered too dangerous and other nobility will not be happy that a woman who could die at any day before providing an heir was chosen over their own daughters._

_There is a solution that will make everyone happy. I need to know your sentiments on certain matters in order to find it. When you have the time, come and see me in the Keep. I’ll be in my study, most likely. Sometimes it seems like I never leave it._

_Anduin is currently in Ironforge, visiting with some of his old tutors. You don’t have to worry about running into him if you don’t want to. It recently occurred to me why you are so uncomfortable with him._

_Regards,_

_Varian_

 

She stared at the letter, frozen to the spot. She had been on her way to the living room, but the last word on the page had startled her badly.

 _Varian_.

Not King Varian, not Varian Wrynn, not His Majesty. Varian. That was informal and familiar in a frightening way. Why was the king being so familiar? She was betrothed, yes, but it was tentative and he was the king.

She sighed, folding the letter. She wouldn’t do anyone any good standing in the middle of the hallway. She called to a passing servant, asked for food to be brought for her, and sat heavily in an armchair. There was a small pile of books on the table beside her. She inspected them, picked a fictional novel, and started to read. When the food was brought, she picked at it slowly, reading while she ate.

Some time passed in that manner, and when she was relaxed and the food was gone, she stood, leaving the book and the plate on the table. Luciana changed into a pair of grey leggings, her favourite dark blue tunic cinched with her sword belt, and shrugged on a light overcoat. She left it open, putting her hands in the pockets to keep the coat from flying open at a strong wind.

She walked alone through the city, eventually coming to the Keep with a familiar route of back streets and hidden alleys. She stopped to talk to a guard about recent changes - an old tree had been cut down in the green room, replaced with a purple-leaved sapling from Teldrassil, and some Lord or another had gotten drunk and embarrassed his family in a court dinner. Everyone was avoiding the family for now. Luciana remembered the way to her room, but asked the guard, “Do I still have a room here?”

“Yes, the room is yours,” the guard said. “It will likely be yours until you die.”

“Wonderful thought, though it might not be that long,” she said with a smile. “Thank you. I remember the way.”

She checked in, seeing the room exactly as she had left it. It smelled a bit musty, and a passing servant asked if she planned to stay, if she wanted the room aired out. “Ah,” Luciana said, unsure. It was unusual, and surprised her more than the fact that she still had a room to be aired out. “No, I won’t be staying. Thank you.”

“My Lady.” The servant bowed low and hurried back onto his previous route.

Luciana traversed the hall to the King’s study, where a guard announced her and allowed her entry. “Luciana!” the King greeted, smiling up at her from his seat. She sat when he gestured to the chair before the desk. “You came quickly.”

“I was unoccupied,” she said with a shrug.

“Good, good.” King Varian ran a hand through his dark hair - it was down, Luciana realized, and fell into locks that framed his face and cast shadows over his eyes. He sighed, and leaned back in his chair. “So,” he said. “I want to know a few things, if you don’t mind.”

“Certainly.”

“You want to stay in the army. Is it because you feel safe there?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean what I asked.”

“... Yes,” she said slowly. “I do feel safe there. I can... be physical there.”

“You can’t here?”

“No. It’s not the same. I can’t pick up heavy things, I can’t spread out. I have to hold myself in a tight little box.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do. Otherwise I risk frightening my sisters, my family, and I risk being ostracized for my strength. Normal people can’t pick up a three hundred pound stone and carry it across a small field,” she said. “Normal people can’t throw people like they’d toss a pillow. I have to hold myself back. I don’t have to in the army, except in ceremonies.”

“I see. So you feel less constrained,” he supplied. “More in control.”

“Yes.”

“Alright. I can understand that. What about Anduin? Tell me honestly how you feel about him.”

“He is...” she frowned, chewed the inside of her cheek. “He’s kind,” he started. “He genuinely wants to see people happy. He likes to help. But he’s not responsible about it. He’d put himself in danger to try to help someone he can’t help. Sacrifice can be a noble thing, but he’s too self-sacrificing. It’s almost like he doesn’t realize he can be hurt.”  
“He does realize it,” Varian said. “All too well, he knows his own mortality. Part of it is my fault. But the thing is, he doesn’t let it hold him back.” He gave her a knowing look. “He sees pain, suffering, and he reaches out to ease it.”

“He is selfish,” she said. “Perhaps only with me. I could suffer dire consequences if I was to get too close to him while only tentatively betrothed, and yet he tries to pull me close anyway.”

“He won’t anymore,” Varian promised. “Although, he likely wants to be your friend. He doesn’t have many. He’s in a unique position, and doesn’t have many peers he can relate to. You’re about his age, intelligent, mature. You’re in a position of command, like he is.” Varian sighed. “He regrets asking you to kiss him. He feels Frederic’s death was his fault.”

“Does he know about...?”

“No. You and Magdalene, the coroner, me, and two guards know. They’ve all sworn to secrecy on the matter.”

“Good. Thank you.”

“Of course. Now. Anduin finds you to be quite attractive. Most of it seems to be centered around your size.”

“My... size?” she asked, tilting her head and furrowing her brow.

“Yes. You’re tall, wide, muscular. You’ve got a warrior’s hands, warrior’s stride, you’re warm. He likes it.”

“And he told you this?”

“Of course,” Varian said as though it should be obvious. “I’m his father.”

“That’s true. So, he finds me attractive.”

“Yes. He also likes your voice, your jaw scars, the muscles in your neck that jump when you turn your head, and he admires your cunning. And your caring heart,” he added. “I don’t know if you saw him. He was wearing peasant’s clothes. He was at the funeral.”

“He heard my speech,” Luciana sighed. “Of course.”

“He feels for you. What do you feel for him? Or...” Varian said. “What could you feel for him?”

She thought a moment, blinking a few times and looking away, to the window. She sighed, looked back at the King, who waited patiently. “He’s quiet,” she said. “Calm. I could spread out with him, take up the space I need.” She blinked slowly, twice. “I would be careful, make sure he had space. I would... Be gentle. I wouldn’t want to hurt him. I don’t know if I can not,” she said. “That’s... That’s what frightens me.”

Varian didn’t speak, watching her with an unreadable expression.

She breathed slowly, looking away again, at desk. She studied the wood, followed the grain and inspected the whorls. “He keeps pulling me open. Without even doing anything. What’s going to come out, I wonder?”

“You are,” Varian said quietly.

“I don’t know what that would look like.”

She heard Varian sigh. She looked up - he had his arms crossed over his massive chest. They moved as he inhaled, exhaled. “You’ll stay in the army,” he said. A promise. “I want to firm the betrothal.”

“Alright,” she said quietly. “Just... Keep my family safe. I can’t lose anyone else. Not yet.”

“You won’t.” Varian sat up, picked up a few blanks papers from a pile on the corner of his desk. “Luciana,” he said. “Anduin might seem innocent, naive, but he’s not. He knows what he’s doing. He can see you just as well as I can, and I have full confidence in you. You’ve been through a lot and you have the scars to show for it, both mental and physical. He’s a healer, Luciana. Let him help you. It’s who he is. And who you are is a warrior. You break, you kill, but you also uplift, and protect. Remember that even without magic, without the Light, without demons or beasts at your side, you are the frontline. You march into battle with nothing but your own fury. You are strong.”

He didn’t look up when she left. Luciana, not wanting to stay but not wanting to return to the manor, wandered the city in a bit of a daze. She respected him as king, as her superior. When had she started to think of him as Varian?

That was his game, she realized with a jolt. He was playing her closer to him, circling like two warriors at a face off, one step closer with every circle. Closer to him, and through him closer to Anduin. Closer to the Royal House. Speaking to her lightly, sparring with her, sending her letters, not punishing her for kissing Anduin out of turn, coming to her during the Foil troubles, agreeing to her terms for a loose noose but slowly tightening it, cutting off routes to escape the betrothal. He was playing her into it.

She wondered if her aunt had seen any part of the Game. She wondered if she should fight it. She wondered if she _could_ fight it. It was next to impossible to beat the King at his own Game, something he'd been born to, raised in. The Game, played by a gladiator with wolf-eyes and a warrior's fury. No, she decided. It was best not to fight it. Maybe he could find some use for her before her end. She'd let him use her for something good. Death before dishonour was usually the only thing a berserker could hope for.

Luciana spent the rest of her time in the city holed up in the manor. She spoke with her aunt to let her know she agreed with a firm betrothal, and asked her father for an address she could use to write to Dania. She penned a letter to her sister, left notes for her brothers, helped Ophelia practice her lines in her upcoming production, and otherwise occupied herself helping the hound master with Penny’s young offspring. The pups were energetic, curious, and were quickly showing how intelligent they were. When Luciana caught one by the scruff to show displeasure at his continuous eating of grass, the pup ran around her in a circle snatching up bites. After a few turns around her, he flopped down on his belly, and she could have sworn he was smiling.

Her last night, she slept badly. Without Penny there to wake her up, the dog still under the care of the hound master, she suffered nightmares of her first tour in Arathi. She woke more tired than when she went to bed.

She ended up meeting with several of her squad mates on the docks as they awaited the ship that would return them to their garrison. The ship was docked, waiting, but boarding had not yet started. Luciana excused herself from conversation, stating that she had not slept well last night. Instead of moving on, Lars, Kain, Christopher, and Jillian encircled her while they spoke with each other and left her to her thoughts. She was ever grateful for her loyal soldiers.

When Jillian tapped her shoulder, she started slightly and looked down at the shorter woman. “There’s a one over there, looking to you,” the scout murmured. “Bit suspicious, eh? Want us to go see him?”

Luciana looked to where Jillian indicated. Her mouth felt dry. “No,” she said quietly. “No, I know them. Give me a minute.”

“Alright,” Jillian said evenly. She watched Luciana for a moment, but she knew Luciana could take care of herself, and the scout turned back to the other three soldiers to continue their conversation as Luciana went to speak with the cloaked individual.

“What are you doing here?” she murmured, pulling them aside.

“I almost missed you,” he answered, tugging his hood back just enough for Luciana to see his face. “If I’d have known you were going to be in the city I would have returned yesterday.” He waited for her to respond, but she couldn’t think of anything to say. “You look exhausted,” Anduin muttered with a concerned frown. “You didn’t sleep well last night?”

“Not really,” she said.

“Here.” He took one of her hands in both of his, encasing it. The Light suffused her, cool under her skin. She inhaled deeply, feeling some strength return to her limbs.

“Thank you,” she said. Anduin smiled thinly.

“I’m glad I could do something for you,” he told her. “I... I’m sorry,” he said, letting go of her hand. “I feel that what happened to your brother is somewhat my fault. I was the one who asked you...”

“It wasn’t your fault,” she interrupted quietly. “I should have had more control.”

“It wasn’t an issue of control,” Anduin said. “I asked you to kiss me and you did. It’s not like you forced me. What you said... It sounded like you were afraid you would rape me. But I’ve never felt fear of you, Luciana,” he said. “Only fear for you. You seem so... lost.” He looked as though he wanted to take her hand again, and she was glad he didn’t. “I want to help you, but I don’t know how.”

You can’t help me, she wanted to say. I will only hurt you. But she didn’t. Varian had told her that he saw something good in her. And wouldn’t he know? A warrior twice her age, at least that much more experienced, and cunning beyond words. She looked down, away, wet her lips, stalled. What should she say? What could she say? “I...” she started, closed her mouth and swallowed. “I’m afraid I will hurt you,” she said, not looking at him. “I’ve hurt a lot of people, without meaning to. And when I mean to, I enjoy it. This hand,” she said, holding up the hand he’d infused with Light. “Not that long ago, I used it to crush a person’s skull against a rock. I felt it give under my grip. It was so satisfying. And I pulled him off the rock, shattered and wet, and smiled. I liked it.”

Anduin didn’t respond, didn’t give some excuse, which she could appreciate. Instead, he took her hand, brought it to his lips and kissed her knuckles gently. Startled, she stared at her hand, feeling his cool skin warm against hers. “You’re warm,” he commented.

“It’s normal,” she said numbly. He kissed her palm, and she felt the urge to snatch her hand away, wipe it off, wipe off the gentle care he showed it. Her hands were instruments of pain, death. They didn’t belong in his grasp. It was hard to resist the urge to step away, reject it. He started to massage her hand, digging his thumbs into the meat of her palm. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“This is the only way I know to take care of you,” he replied. “Since you won’t let me close emotionally, I will try physically.”

She was transfixed by the movements of his fingers. Her hand felt limp. It was unusual, for someone to willingly touch her. Her squad mates had no trouble slapping her on the back, giving her a hand to her feet, piling up on a bed to sleep. This felt different. “Why?”

“Because I care for you.”

She blinked, looked up at him. “Why?” she asked. He shrugged.

“I don’t know. You’re hurt,” he said. “From Frederic’s death. From losing your scout. I don’t know from what else. You’ve been hurt a lot. I want to help you heal.”

She wanted to ask why again, and bit it back to avoid repeating herself so much. “Oh.”

“Just as you are a warrior who enjoys war, I am a healer who enjoys healing.”

They fell silent for a time, and he moved up to her wrist, massaging, letting Light whisper against her skin, slowly seep into her muscles, into her bones. It spread from her hand to her shoulder and down, all the way to her toes. When the boat’s horn sounded, announcing that boarding would soon begin, she jumped, eyes widening. When she looked at Anduin, he was smiling at her reaction. She had relaxed, without noticing. She could have been struck from behind, Anduin could have been struck and she would have been slow to react. He seemed to read her mind, and looked down, and then back up at her meaningfully before looking down again. She looked down. There was a faint shimmer near her shins, dancing up like ripples in water to her hips, then her shoulders. A shield. He had used the Light to shield her while she relaxed. Maybe it was why she had relaxed.

“Knight Lieutenant!” Kain called. “We’re boarding!”

She raised her hand to acknowledge him, lowering it slowly. Anduin released her other hand, and she slowly took it back, watching him. She was nervous. How long had it been since she felt nervous? Certainly not since she had graduated from the Military Academy.

“I hope you have safe trip,” he murmured, tugging his hood to cast shadows over his face. “I will pray for you while you’re away.”

She didn’t want to leave yet, feeling as though she was missing something. Confusion was not something an officer should feel. She squashed it down, regaining her bearings. “Your Highness,” she said, nodding.

“Anduin,” he corrected with an unsure smile.

“Anduin.”

She about-faced, marching to the boat. Half of the people waiting had already boarded. When they saw her insignia of rank the mariners hurried her along with salutes and exclamations of ‘sir’.

On the boat, she glanced over the railing. Anduin had not moved. Her hand clenched tightly, and she shoved it into her coat pocket. Anduin waved to her. She turned to enter the ship’s hold. Kain was waiting just inside for her.

“Glad you could make it...” he trailed off. “You look seasick already. You need some ginger?” he joked.

“No,” she mumbled, slipping past him. He followed, concerned now.

“Oi,” he said. “Lt. You okay?” She found a cot that the others had saved her in the corner, claimed it with her bag and turned to go topside again. Kain caught her arm. “Lucy?” he asked, brow furrowed as he searched her face. “You’re not looking so hot. Is something wrong?” His eyes hardened. “The man on the docks, you went to talk to. Did he say something to you? Did he threaten your family? You?”

“Do you really think someone would be alive after threatening my family?” she asked calmly.

“Guess not. Still. You look a little... lost.”

She tugged her arm out of his grip. “There are some things I can’t share with people outside my family. This is one of them.”

“Alright, alright.” He held his hands up in surrender, backing up. “But if you need some space, let me know. We’ll keep people off your back.”

“Thanks, Kain,” she sighed. She hurried back to the deck, to the railing, and looked around. She hadn’t waved back. She didn’t want Anduin to feel as though she had rejected him. She hadn’t - she hadn’t thought it through. The one time she needed to think and she’d forgotten to. She couldn’t see his cloak on the docks and searched for him, trying to seem calm. She relaxed her shoulders, tilted her cap’s visor down to make her seem aloof, to create a space around her.

Anduin was at the top of the last flight of stairs, heading back to the city. She watched him climb them. He looked minute, from this distance. He was nearing the edge of the canals when he stopped, turned again. She lifted her hand in a brief wave. He returned it, and she imagined he would be smiling. Satisfied, she turned to return to her squad mates to wait for the others to arrive.


	17. Stormwind Chargers

Her sixth tour nearly ended in disaster. The Arathi Basin was once again harshly contested - the Forsaken troops had called in reinforcements from Orgrimmar, and tauren and orcish forces retook the mines and nearly three-quarters of the basin before the Alliance could respond.

Under the experienced command of Knight Captain Servol, the battle had restarted with vicious night strikes and guerilla tactics. 113th Company lost more good men. From Luciana’s own squadron, George was taken with a poison-tipped dagger, and Enaeon was nearly lost to the same rogue before Kain managed to behead the undead trooper, effectively stopping her assault.

The basin was the scene of a massive battle. Mounted orcs rode great wolves - beasts that possessed the same sharp intelligence of sabers, and the stubbornness of an Ironforge ram. They were a danger taken out by an idea from 115th Company’s Lieutenant, who suggested bringing in mages to create blizzards over the battlefield. Alliance soldiers would engage the mounted orcs, and a hasty retreat would be called. The orcs would pursue, right under a mage cloud that would rain great spears of ice into their ranks. That was one of two major victories that allowed the Stormwind army to reclaim their foothold in Arathi.

The second major victory came after Knight Captain Servol was disabled with by a Horde assassin who had snuck into the garrison. A patrolling guard had found him just in time to bring him to the healers, who had barely been able to save him from the blood clots the poison had caused. Without a Knight Captain, the Companies were put into disarray for a few days, and the Horde took advantage of the opening. They sent three massive forces storming through Arathi Basin. Scouts reported back in plenty of time, but the Knight Lieutenants were in turmoil without a Captain.

That is, until Luciana grew impatient and broke the iron war table with her fist. “Enough,” she snarled, and the entire room fell deathly silent. “I have an idea, and you are all going to hear it. The three main Horde units have taken up temporary camp in the fields, here, here, and here.” She pointed to three spots on the map, which had fallen relatively flat on the remains of the table. 

“114th, engage the first unit from the front. 115th will strike the second unit from the side, here. 116th will wait here,” she said, “behind the first Horde force. 113th will lead an initial mounted charge through their ranks, pull around to the side. Once we’re clear, 116th will lead a second charge through whatever Horde are still standing. 113th will loop around and merge with 116th and both Companies will continue the charge to the second Horde unit, here.” She again pointed. “113th and 116th will be joined by whatever soldiers of the 115th still have horses, and we will charge to the first Horde unit from the side, through the forest here. Whatever Horde remain will become prisoners, if they do not flee or die fast enough.”

The other Lieutenants discussed it for a short time, but not too long, occasionally throwing glances to Luciana to see how much patience remained. Finally, they agreed. “It’s a good plan,” 114th’s Lieutenant agreed. “And the only one we have. Empty the stables!” he ordered. “113th and 116th get full mounted regalia. The rest split up between 114th and 115th. Go! Move quickly, before the Horde can learn of our plan.”

Scouts ran to spread word and soon, Luciana was mounted and leading her Company through the forest edging the basin. Jillian had the map and the communications device that would connect them to the main base. The other three scouts went ahead to determine the clearest and most efficient route. Soon, Luciana had her soldiers gathered in the trees, overlooking a Horde unit that was starting to move on from their camp. “116th’s ready,” Oaken’s scout reported, ears flat against his skull.

“Ready them,” Luciana said, nodding backwards to the force. The scout saluted, and nimbly skipped over the sparse underbrush to convey the order. Luciana took a deep breath, clenched her hand around the reins, and raised her sword. She gave the scout a few moments to relay the words. “Charge!” she roared, kicking her Charger into a pace unique to the breed. Head down and ready to butt, front legs kicking out, and the horse took its name seriously and charged down the slight incline into a large unit of Horde forces. Luciana lay about her with her blade, striking several death blows and many lesser ones. She kicked out and caught a tauren in the head with her steel boot, and laughed loudly as she beheaded an orc.

Once she was through the unit, she turned her horse to face her own charge. “Right!” she screamed, waving her sword to indicate the path her Company was to take. “Right! Go right!”

The horses streamed by. Miraculously, none were lost. Luciana attributed it to the approximately seven seconds of warning she had given the enemy when she screamed to charge. She tapped her heels to the horse’s sides and it trotted along the edge of the fray. “Right!” she yelled, seeing the last of her soldiers clear the area. And, then, 116th came screaming out of the forest and destroyed what remained of the Horde company. Luciana took a moment to watch proudly as her Company seamlessly joined with the other, and she kicked her horse into a sprint to retake her place at their head. Stormwind Chargers were strong, unstoppable in a charge, and could run for hours at their signature pace. She prayed, hoping that most of the horses were still uninjured, and the two Companies charged through the fields side by side.

“Charge!” she roared again, pointing with her broadsword to the Horde unit currently engaged with the 115th. The Alliance people were in the process of retreating when Luciana called the order, and when she reached the back end of the enemy forces, 115th was clear. Once more, the opposing force was destroyed, and yet more mounted Alliance soldiers joined the massive charge.

“Charge!” Luciana called one last time when the 114th was in sight. They were not faring well, nearly overwhelmed by a force twice their size. Luciana indicated for her force to veer to the right and strike from an angle, and 114th soldiers cheered and yelled praises to the Light when the other Companies smashed into the Horde soldiers. Screaming horses crushed people under their hooves, breaking waves of bodies with wide, plated chests. The proud Stormwind lion on the chest of Luciana’s Charger shone with blood, and she was grinning, waving her sword in the air. “Victory!” she cried. “Victory for the Alliance! Victory!”

“Victory!” she was echoed.

“Take prisoners!” 115th’s Lieutenant ordered. “Kill the rest!”

The manoeuvre was a great success, and after having their numbers severely depleted for their arrogance and rushed entry into Alliance territory, the Horde forces backed up into their own, hesitant to engage in anything larger than a skirmish. Luciana’s plan had been put into motion too soon for the Horde’s scouts to report back, and the horses had moved it along so quickly that the Horde hadn’t been able to properly respond until the prisoners were already being dragged back to base.

This pause in combat gave ample time for the Captain to recover. Within a week he returned to his duties, and finished what Luciana’s plan had started. Before long, the Horde’s holdings were reduced to just less than half of the basin, splitting it nearly even down the middle.

Leon gathered his Lieutenants in his office on one of the first relaxed days since the Horde’s reinforcements had arrived. “That was a foolish risk,” the Captain spat. “You could have lost an entire Brigade!”

“We would have lost it if we hadn’t acted, Sir,” 116th’s Lieutenant said. All four stood at ease, gaze forward, chins up, shoulders back. “Knight Lieutenant Amadeus’ plan was the only viable option. We all agreed to it, Sir.”

“Did I ask you?” Leon growled.

“No, Sir.”

“Then why are you speaking?”

“Because I’m an idiot, Sir.”

Leon’s scowl cracked a bit at that. He sighed. “You all took a great risk,” he said. “But you’re correct in saying that you had no time left. If you had waited all of twenty minutes, the garrison would have been lost, and the entire basin would belong to the Horde. This plan was risky, but well thought out, and you four executed it nearly perfectly. For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you all. But you disobeyed orders.”

“What orders, Sir?” Luciana asked. “We were given no orders from anyone after you were disabled.”

He paused. “Really?” he asked, frowning. “That’s odd. The Knight Champion should have sent down... No, that’s right,” he sighed. “They were also under attack. Then you didn’t disobey orders. Alright. That makes things easier.”

He debriefed them, sent them back to their barracks, and promised a week’s leave for each Lieutenant three days for each soldier once the basin calmed, and rapid replacement of the small number lost. Each fallen soldier would receive the White Star for their sacrifice. The stables had also suffered some losses, but horses were easier to replace than good men and women.

Luciana was injured and exhausted, but she at least slept like a brick. When her time for leave came, she was eager to get out of the med bay. She’d been regulated to bed rest after they’d found the holes in her organs made by the sharp points of broken ribs. She’d only admitted something was wrong after three days of dropping blood instead of stool. Enaeon had lectured her harshly while carrying her in careful, tree-like arms to the med bay.

When she was well enough to stand, an award ceremony was held. White Stars were placed on folded Alliance flags for each soldier lost, there was a short speech about the history of loyalty and power of the Stormwind Charger, and several people in the 114th and 115th earned White Hearts. Their own Knight Lieutenants made the suggestions after watching their Companies fend off far greater numbers to stall for time for the cavalry to arrive. Luciana was given a Red Heart for a strategy that resulted in victory over an expected defeat and a much rarer medal - the Golden Cross, for going above and beyond the call of duty of her station in a time of crisis. Her Superior Officer had been disabled, nearly resulting in a terrible loss, but her actions had kept things going until he could recover. 

The other Lieutenants received commendations for their part in the plan. Afterwards, the entire garrison partied an entire night away. The day after was hell on soldiers, who were expected to continue their duties regardless.

The boat ride to Stormwind was peaceful, as only Luciana and several other soldiers were on board beside the mariners. The night elf ship The Twilit Lute had a comfortable hold, and Luciana slept well for the first time in many months.


	18. A Firm Agreement

News arrived to them when they docked. A scout ran up the ship’s boarding plank before anyone could react, and found Luciana. Huffing and puffing, he relayed the news: Knight-Champion Lorelei Silverheart had been promoted to Lieutenant Commander, and was given command of the entire 1st Regiment. To fill the gap, Knight-Captain Leon Servol was promoted to Knight Champion, and she was one of three Knight Lieutenants up for possible promotion, along with Rivers of the 115th and Miller of the 116th.

“Thank you, scout,” Luciana said, offering him a cup of water. He gulped it down and beat a hasty retreat with more messages to deliver.

“You’re moving up pretty quick,” Kain commented. “Knight Lieutenant after four tours, Knight Captain after six.”

“I’m not there yet, Kain,” she commented.

“Ah, you will be. No one else could even move when Servol went down. You pulled us all through, and everyone knows it. Hey, what’s this?”

A royal welcome awaited Luciana at the walkway of the docks. Three ranks of six mounted Royal Guards, each with a Stormwind banner, and a mounted courtier holding the reins to a dressed black steed. “It’s for me,” she sighed. “The betrothal? Likely been made firm by now.”

“Oh, wow,” Kain said, a bit sarcastically. “I’m in the presence of future royalty. Congratulations, Luce. But you don’t sound too excited.”

She shrugged. “I’d better get down there before the courtier starts yelling for me.”

She descended the boarding plank, people making room for her once they realized the excitement was for her. “Lady Luciana of the noble House of Amadeus,” the courtier began as she approached.

“I go by my military rank,” she interrupted loudly.

“Knight Lieutenant Luciana Amadeus,” he corrected smoothly. “His Majesty King Varian Wrynn awaits you in the courtyard of the Keep. Please mount this noble steed, and we shall make our way there.”

She looked the horse over and, satisfied, mounted smoothly, the strap of her bag slung over her chest. She followed apace with the courtier, up the ramps to the city. People had apparently been told of her coming, as crowds had gathered. “You will be given time to change into more... appropriate clothing,” the courtier said, gesturing to her cloak. He had explained in brief what was about to happen.

“I’m wearing full parade uniform,” Luciana said, and pulled her hat from her bag. She settled the cap on her head, and straightened in her seat. “I’m not changing.”

“Very well.”

Indeed, there was a gathering of citizens and nobles alike waiting for Luciana and her entourage at the gates of the keep. The entire courtyard was full, the streets surrounding the canals were packed and a route had to be cleared by city guards. The stairs were lined with nobles arranged according to title, and at the top waited two groups. On the left was Talia and Bertrand, a step below them stood Bannister and Desmond, and then Ophelia, Dania, and Mannarie another step down. 

To the right stood Anduin and King Greymane, Princess Tess and Queen Mia, and a priest whose robes glowed faintly with the glory of the Light. She stood next to Anduin, smiling, with a hand on his shoulder. His trainer, perhaps, or a friend. Varian stood above the stairs between the two groups, resplendent in his armour. It looked to be recently polished. Seeing what he intended, Luciana handed her bag to a Royal Guard who took it wordlessly and held it to his chest protectively. She dismounted and swept off her cloak dramatically, also handing it off, and between her parade uniform, medals of honour, height, and broadsword, she imagined she was quite the sight.

“Citizens of Stormwind, friends and allies of the kingdom,” Varian boomed, his voice echoing throughout the entire courtyard. And indeed there were many dwarves, gnomes, and worgen in the crowds. Even some draenei and pandaren made appearances, and several night elves were gathered at the back, easily seeing over the crowds of humans. “Today, we are gathered to welcome home a hero of the Alliance!” He gave them a moment to cheer. “But more than that, we are here to celebrate the firm betrothal of Knight Lieutenant Luciana Amadeus to the Crown Prince Anduin Wrynn!”

This time, he gave them a solid twenty seconds to cheer and scream. He raised his hands, and the level of noise abruptly lowered. “This is indeed a time for celebration. A good woman, a powerful warrior, and a cunning strategist as well as a master of the Court, Luciana Amadeus will one day be wed to Prince Anduin, whom you all know to be merciful and intelligent. One day, Luciana Amadeus will be your Queen!”

The sound buffeted her as she slowly climbed the stairs with her head held high. She ignored the crowds, the stares and cheers and cries of her name, and instead focused on not tripping up the stair. Just as she had to appear perfect, effortless before soldiers as a commanding officer, she worked to appear untouchable, powerful to the masses gathered around her. She ignored her fast-beating heart, the sweat gathering on her nose and under her collar, and kept her expression smooth, unaffected, cool and confident.

“Welcome home your future Queen!” Varian roared, and the cheering restarted. She reached her family standing on the stairs, and her mother embraced her.

“You look wonderful,” she said into Luciana’s ear.

She climbed another step to her brothers, who each put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. Wordlessly, they offered their continued support and love.

Another step, and her aunt embraced her. “See the Greymanes next,” she said, barely heard over the cheering. Her father squeezed her shoulders, smiling proudly.

She crossed over to the other group, where King Greymane held out his hand. “To the future of our alliance,” he said, smiling. They clasped arms firmly for a moment.

“To the future of our alliance,” Queen Mia repeated, taking Luciana’s hands in her own and giving a squeeze.

“To the future of our alliance,” Princess Tess said, doing the same as her mother.

“To the future of our kingdom,” Prince Anduin said, holding his hand out. Luciana took it and they shook hands. The Light sparked along her fingers and she lowered her chin in a shallow nod. She had already decided to let Varian use her as he saw fit. She might as well do the same for her Prince, who would one day be her King. At least he was a priest. He could find a good use for her. Anduin’s eyes were bright with amusement, as though he'd seen her thoughts. _Go to my father_ , he mouthed.

She climbed up the last few steps to stand before the King. His hand rested on the pommel of Shalamayne, and he looked down at her, inspecting every inch. 

“Stormwind!” he cried. “Is she worthy to lead you?”

Inarticulate cheers.

“Is she worthy to carry your crown? Your heir?”

More cheers.

“Is she worthy to shoulder your burdens? To share in your joys?”

Continued cheering.

“I agree!” he laughed, lifting his arms for silence. The roars were reduced to mere whispers in moments. “Luciana Amadeus,” he said, throwing his voice. She met his gaze evenly. “I see you standing before me, and find you worthy of my kingdom and my son. But, I will have an oath from you.” Kneel, he mouthed, and she went down to one knee, humbly bowing her head. A spark of magic ran the length of her throat and she guessed it was to project her voice. “Do you swear to uphold the honour of Wrynn, to pursue glory and greatness for the House, to one day bear it an heir worthy of continuing its name, and to sit proudly at the table of kings?”

“I swear!” she declared in an unwavering voice.

“Do you swear to one day honour the promise of betrothal, to wed Prince Anduin, to be loyal to him and his House, to keep him and honour him as family?”

“I swear!”

“And will you, as scion of Amadeus and Knight of the Stormwind Imperial Armed Forces and as a warrior, swear to use your talents and abilities to better the House to which you will one day belong?”

“I swear!”

“Stand, then, and receive my blessing!”

She stood and saw he was smiling, and returned it as he pulled her into a hug. He put a gentle hand on the back of her head to press her to the cool metal of his breastplate. The cheering started again.

He released her and offered his hand. She took it, and he raised it high. “Your future Queen!” he roared, eyes alight. Maybe he could tell she'd surrendered. She doubted it mattered.

“Come.” A hand landed on her shoulder. King Greymane smiled down to her. “Let’s go inside, where we can speak in peace.” Anduin appeared at his elbow, smiling widely. Luciana offered a small smile in return. She was tired and the noise was making her anxious and her nerves twitched every time something moved at the edge of her vision - which was often.

She was practically dragged into the Keep, the walls providing a buffer that muted the noise from outside. She was guided to a room usually closed off to the public. It was richly furnished and she guessed it was a parlor for the two royal families. Food was already waiting on the dining table to one side of the room, and to her surprise there was no ceremony to it as everyone simply took their seats with the two kings at the ends.

“Come, sit,” Varian said, gesturing to an empty chair to his left. Anduin sat opposite, and she took her seat. The rest of the table was occupied by the Greymanes and the priest, who sat to Anduin’s other side. She was older, perhaps in her thirties, and had a look of experience about her. There was an empty chair between Queen Mia and Luciana.

Conversation started while she was still trying to process the events. It didn’t take long, and she turned to raise an eyebrow at Varian, who laughed around a bite of roast quail. “Surprised you, did it?” he asked. “What a welcome home.”

“Actually, I’m more surprised at this,” she said, waving to the room at large.

“Well, we can’t be pompous airbags all the time. Except Varian, that is,” Genn joked from the other end.

“At least I don’t leave fur and muddy paw prints all over the carpets,” Varian retorted. Luciana silently turned to her food, smiling. “This is where we go when the court gets... heated,” Varian offered, lowering his voice. “You know what it’s like to be a noble. Being a royal is only worse.”

“And I’m going to be a part of it?” Luciana asked.

“One day. Soon, I imagine,” Varian answered.

“You’re always welcome here, though,” Anduin added with a friendly smile.

The room was filled with chatter, and some banter and mild insults between the two kings. It seemed to Luciana that they regarded each other as brothers, despite the painful history between their kingdoms.

Her lower back ached badly by the time dessert was brought out. Varian’s sharp eyes picked up the slightest of grimaces on her face. “Are you injured?” he asked quietly, his voice passing under Queen Mia’s. Anduin looked up, concern written clearly on his face.

“Nothing serious, Sire,” she murmured. “Just an ache.”

Anduin held his hand out over the table in a silent offer. Varian leaned back, looking at Luciana expectantly. She sighed, and held out her hand. “It didn’t look like ‘just an ache’ to me,” Anduin said. So he had seen it, too.

“I get injured in the field,” Luciana said, feeling the cool touch of the Light wash down her arm to her back. “It’s nothing new. Thank you,” she said, taking her hand back.

“If you’re in pain, let me know,” Anduin said. “I can help.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Luciana replied.

Luciana knew perfectly well how to entertain noble guests, but in the relaxed atmosphere, she decided to conserve her energy and eat her food quietly. She felt exhausted still from the fighting, from the frenzied assault and desperate defenses. It felt like her charges had been months ago, yet she was still tired. Unusual, for her. She wanted nothing more than to collapse in a bed with Penny, or really with any dog, and relax. Without worry, without thought, without expectations.

“So!” King Greymane said loudly. “When are the happy young couple getting married?”

Anduin’s ears reddened slightly as the only sign of his embarrassment. “Not any time soon, Genn,” Varian laughed, reaching out to rub Anduin’s shoulder. “They’re young yet, and looking at you I can definitely say I’ve got a good few years left.”

“Looking at me? Boy, I’m Gilnean. Don’t compare us. You’ll be turning grey before I even start to slow.”

“You’re already grey, so I won’t have to wait long.”

Luciana allowed her smile to come through. Really, the two snapped at each other like Desmond and Bannister. “Ah, I believe our officer is getting a bit tired of your squabbles,” Queen Mia commented.

“I could show her to her new rooms?” Tess suggested.

“New rooms?” Luciana asked, looking at Varian.

“Yes. The ones you had before were guest rooms - these ones will be permanent,” Varian said. “Actually, Tess, that’s a good idea. But I have some things I’d like to discuss with the Knight Lieutenant. If you don’t mind, old man?” Varian said with a grin, standing.

“Even a brat knows to ask before getting out of his chair,” Genn said snippily, and Queen Mia smacked his arm.

“Enough, Genn!” she scolded. “Go ahead, dears. We’ll see you another time, Luciana.”

Luciana offered Anduin a small, reassuring smile when she saw his frown. She was in it, now. She may as well play her part properly. She turned and followed Varian from the room, a guard closing the door behind them. The ones they passed bowed their heads silently.

Luciana memorized the route they took through the castle even as they reached the private quarters. On one end of the hallway was a closed door that led to the hall that held Luciana’s old room. At the other end was Varian’s study, which was connected to his private rooms only accessible from the study or from Anduin’s room. Next to that was the door to the Prince’s chambers, and then a door that Varian unlocked with an iron key. He offered it to Luciana, who tucked it into an inside breast pocket, and he opened the door. The hinges were silent, likely recently oiled. 

The antechamber was much larger than the old one, able to host a good twenty people, and had its own hearth. The carpet was a rich burgundy, luxuriously thick and patterned in dark gold with the Amadeus crest at the four corners and the Stormwind lion in the center. “Nice carpet,” Luciana commented quietly, looking around.

“The Pembrookes had it made,” Varian said. “To congratulate you. And Anduin, I suppose.”

“I’m moving up,” she said. “Anduin is already a Royal.”

“True.”

Varian gestured to the second locked door, which Luciana unlocked and opened. She stepped into the room after scanning it for threats, the move too ingrained to ignore despite the obvious fact that in the Keep, there would be only assassins of the highest caliber, ones she wouldn’t be able to detect until they struck. Still, she was cautious.  
The room was open and larger than both her previous chambers and her rooms at the Amadeus manor. A massive four-poster bed with heavy dark red curtains lay in the center of the far wall. Beside it were a coffee table and several chairs with a familiar chess set laid out. There was another table against the wall next to the set up, long and narrow. In the corner was a great bookcase made of heavy, dark wood. It was currently empty, save four books held up with silver bookends in the shape of wolf heads. 

Luciana inspected the books. _Observations on Jinyu Culture, Customs, and Language_ , written by Lady Knight Luciana Amadeus, translated into Dwarven and Gnomish by Professor Theoded Grufflink, translated into Draenic by Haekte Maane, translated into Darnassian and Pandaren by Priestess of Elune Ferana. “Huh,” she said quietly, putting the book back on its shelf.

Between the bookshelf and the table was a door. Luciana opened it to reveal the washroom. It was also ridiculously large, with a tub halfway in the floor large enough for five people to lounge comfortably. Indoor plumbing was obviously a feature, as the toilet bowl was filled with clear water. There was a more private shower hidden behind a wall extending halfway through the space, also large enough for several people. There were various odds and ends in a cubby hole cut into the stone - soap, wash clothes, shampoo, lotion, some hard sponge-like thing on a stick. For her back, perhaps? The washroom was lit with werelights, and they extinguished when she exited.

On the other side of the bed was a wide table that held a neat stack of blank papers, envelopes of various sizes, and writing utensils and inks organized by size and colour, and a comfortable reading chair. There were two more bookshelves behind it, narrower than the other. The window allowed sunlight to brighten the room past heavy burgundy curtains that were tied to holders to the sides of the window - which, in fact, was a set of thick double glass doors that led to a wide balcony. Wrought iron furniture, chairs and tables, dotted the balcony alongside small potted tree-like shrubs. A storage container at the far end contained cushions for the chairs and parasols that could be stuck into holes in the center of the tables to provide shade.

Luciana shut the balcony doors behind her, locking them, and opened the door near the reading table. It was a private study with a wide sofa tucked away to the side, probably meant for late nights. When she opened the cabinet to find pillows and blankets, it was confirmed. She gave the room a cursory inspection, found more papers and ink and a set of crystal wine glasses and tumblers, and left the study for later. It had a window and curtains, but also bright werelights. Varian wordlessly showed her the small device inlaid in the stone beneath the light holders, and how it could adjust the brightness of the werelights.

On the other side of the bedroom was a great hearth, currently unlit. Next to it was a large log holder for long winter nights. The mantle over the fireplace was empty, but over it was a painted picture of Elwynn forest opening to reveal the entrance to the Abbey. “You can change that,” Varian said, gesturing to the painting. “It’s just a generic one to fill the space.”

“Alright.”

There was a closet to the right of the hearth and an armory meant for heavy plate armour and weapons storage. Next to that was the door to the antechamber. Varian brought her back to the left side of the hearth. There was a round table with four chairs, comfortable and straight-backed for eating. Varian pressed his hand against the side of the hearth that made a corner with the wall, and one of the stones moved. The wall opened to reveal a short hallway that ended abruptly with another wall. “To Anduin’s rooms,” he said shortly. “There’s a similar passage between his and mine. I want to say it’s for emergencies but we actually use it a lot when we don’t feel like getting dressed in the morning. Or late night, actually. You’ve no doubt heard what happened when Anduin chased after Hellscream in Pandaria.”

“The Divine Bell,” Luciana supplied. “Yes, I’m familiar with it.” Everyone was. 

“He’s had nightmares since he was a child,” Varian supplied. “Mostly about Onyxia. Now there’s another subject. Normally he handles them just fine and gets back to sleep. On the rare occasion he can’t, he uses the passage to my chamber and sleeps there with me. It soothes his mind to feel another person nearby. I’m sure you of all people understand this.”

“I do.” Luciana nodded slowly. “I’m familiar with nightmares.”

“He’s stubborn like his mother was, so it’s only when they’re truly terrible,” Varian said. “If I’m away he might come to you. He’s not doing it out of any ulterior motive - likely he’s just terrified and wants to sleep. He might also use this passage if your breakfast arrives before his, in which case he does have an ulterior motive and you need to guard your food. He eats more from my plate than his own sometimes.”

“Understood,” Luciana said with an amused smile. That, at least, was something she could handle. Her soldiers did the same thing. She found the best way to discourage them was to snap her teeth and growl like a dog. It even got Jillian to lay off, though usually only because she found it funny. 

Varian released the stone and after a moment it moved back to its regular place and the passageway sealed seamlessly. “That’s about it,” he sighed. “Oh, almost forgot.” He went to the bed, kneeled down and reached under it. He pulled, and the edge of the bed lifted several feet off the ground with the aid of several groupings of large steel gears. Luciana crouched to look and what he had done. There was an opening in the ground, and Luciana could barely make out the first few rungs of a ladder. There was a faint werelight coming from the hole. In Varian’s hand was a thick rope looped at the end. He released the rope and it was pulled back into the floor. The bed descended slowly, and when Luciana checked, only the rope loop was visible under the bed. “For a quick getaway, should anything ever happen,” he explained. “It leads to the kitchens, which are directly connected to the guard’s barracks.”

“Gnomish?” she asked.

“With a dwarven touch,” Varian said, smiling. “Your new chambers,” he said, holding out his arms. “You don’t have to stay here. I’m perfectly aware you’d likely want to spend time with your family while you’re here. I understand you had... a hard time in the basin when the Horde tried to overwhelm us.”

“I did,” she said quietly. “Honestly, I want nothing more than to sleep for three days.” She sighed. Her back was starting to ache again. Getting kicked in the spine hurt, and it only hurt more when it was an iron-booted orc with a grudge against pinkskins. “Has the news been spread yet?”

“Far and wide, the moment we finalized it with your aunt. Who is, by the way, slightly terrifying.”

“I know,” she said, nodding as she surveyed the room absently. “That’s why we were using her. Alright. Well, I’ll stay here. If I go back to the manor I’ll only paint a target on them.”

“SI:7 agents have been dispatched there for months,” Varian said. “They’re safe as can be. But I understand what you’re saying. It’s not assassins you’re worried about, is it?”

“No. It’s the other nobles, mostly. They’ll start to target Ophelia for betrothal with Dania in Dalaran. Even she won’t be safe. Desmond and Bannister are already popular as Chevaliers. Talia will get some proposals, as well. And there will be a never-ending stream of angry people who think that I’m not the right choice.”

“It’s really only mine and Anduin’s opinions that actually matter,” Varian said.

“I know, but you think they care? Crowds are fickle.”

“I know that well.”

“I don’t want to cause a stampede, or worse, by staying at the manor. No, I’ll stay here. I don’t doubt the Keep’s staff is used to dealing with angry citizens.”

“Of all kinds,” Varian confirmed. “It’s up to you. You can see the staff in the kitchens later, to tell them what you’d prefer for breakfast. It’s usually brought up at whatever time you specify. I tend to just eat whatever they bring me, but Anduin’s a bit pickier and has a meal plan set out. You can do either or.”

“Lunch and dinner?”

“Lunch is eaten at your convenience,” he shrugged. “Ask a guard to send for it if you’re busy, or just head down to the kitchens. There’s a Royal wing you can use, with our own chefs. Down the first hall.” He pointed with his thumb in the direction their end of the private quarters. “Double doors, can’t miss it. And dinner...” he trailed off, then chuckled. “I forget to eat that most days. Seems there’s no end of paper in my study. Ah, well, when I remember, Anduin and I eat together, usually in the Royal kitchens. Or he has it brought to my rooms so he can scold me about remembering to eat.”

“Alright.” Luciana was smiling at him, and he scowled.

“Don’t look at me like that. One day you’ll start to forget and he’ll nag you. Then you’ll see.”

“I’m sure I will,” she said, and sighed heavily. Her back really hurt, now.

“Do you need a healer?” Varian asked. “You look like you swallowed raw seaweed. Your back?”

“Yeah. I think I just need to lie down.”

“Alright, I’ll leave you be.” He reached out and put his hand on the back of her neck, squeezing slightly. He had removed his gauntlets to eat earlier, and his bare hands were rough from years of fighting. “Do you want a dog? I can have one brought up. There’s no end to the pugs in this place. I don’t even know where they’re all coming from. Or would you prefer another mastiff? I could have a hound brought up.”

“Honestly, I don’t think it matters. Whichever is more convenient.”

“Then you’ll be getting twenty-three pugs and various costumes for them,” he said.

“The bed’s large enough,” she shrugged.

“The bed, eh?” Varian said, and waggled his eyebrows. “Don’t you try to seduce my son. You’re not married yet.”

She stared at him blankly for a moment, taken aback at his joking manner on such a serious subject. “That would be a serious breach of protocol, Sire. I wouldn’t dare.”

Now it seemed it was his turn to be taken aback. “Protocol?” he asked. “I don’t give two shits about protocol and Anduin inherited that from me. If you two want to have a romp in the hay, be responsible about it.”

“I doubt the Court would like that,” she said.

“Damn them,” he said, waving dismissively. “Damn them, and listen to me. I think I know what I’m talking about after twenty-odd years of ruling this kingdom.” He put his hands on her shoulders, and she realized with a start that it made her feel small, and young. When had she started feeling old? “Anduin is my son, and I know him better than anyone. If you are uncomfortable with being close before marriage, he’ll respect that. But he also wants very desperately to be close to you and if you can manage it without having a meltdown about breach in protocol, you’ll find it’s quite nice. Ah,” he said when she opened her mouth to speak. “I remember what you told me. About how you’re afraid to open up because you’re not sure what’s going to come out. I’m not telling you to rush into this headfirst. I’m telling you that Anduin cares about you, and one day you’re going to be part of this family, small and broken as it is. Anduin, of all the people in Elwynn, is someone you can relax with. At the very least, I suggest you try to be friends. I don’t imagine a marriage is pleasant if the people involved aren’t even friends.”

"This isn't easy for me, Sire," she said quietly. 

"I know. But you've already made your decision, haven't you?"

She nodded in agreement. So he _had_ seen it. Her surrender. “I... will try to remember your words,” she said.

“Good. And if you two do decide to have a nice romp...” He laughed when she inhaled to retort indignantly. “I get it, I get it!” he said. “Just, be gentle with him. He’s barely had friends, let alone lovers.”

“Sire-”

“Alright, alright,” he said soothingly, stepping back with his hands raised in surrender. His cheeky smile ruined the effect. “I’ll let you get some rest. I’ll tell Anduin you’re just tired from your sea voyage. Someone will bring you a dog in a bit.”

“Thank you,” she said, moving to unbuckle her sword belt. Varian disappeared into the antechamber, and a moment later she heard the door lock. It would make sense if he had a key to her rooms, being the patriarch and protector. He likely had a key to all rooms, everywhere. And if he came across a room he didn't have the key for, he could probably just kick down the door. 

She shut the curtains and stripped naked under several warmly-tinted werelight. She showered briefly, the icy water numbing her back pleasantly, and when she stepped out of the washroom, toweling her short hair dry, a Royal Guard opened the door and casually stepped in with a hunting hound on a leash.

“Your dog,” she said, and then looked up. “The King didn’t tell you we don’t knock here,” she supplied.

“Nope.”

“We don’t knock here unless there’s a guest or a problem. Saves time.” She shrugged. “If you’d prefer we did...”

“No, it’s fine. If I didn’t like people seeing me naked I wouldn’t have joined the Army.”

The guard laughed, and unclipped the leash from the dog’s collar. The floppy-eared hound bounded over to greet Luciana, who crouched down to return it enthusiastically. “Have a good rest, Your Highness.”

Luciana froze for a moment. “Your Highness?” she asked.

“Well, you’re betrothed to the Prince. That makes you a Royal by extension.”

“Before the actual marriage? Or even the confirmation?”

“The way we’ve been hearing it,” the guard said. “Rumours, you know. Stuff gets passed around the staff here. Way we’ve been hearing it, there was never anything tentative about it. Just a cover, see? So, you’re going to be a Royal either way.”

“I’d prefer Knight Lieutenant or Lady Knight, if it’s not an issue,” Luciana said.

“Sure thing, Lady Knight.” The guard gave a sharp salute, and took care to lock the door behind her.

Luciana looked down at the hound. It had long tan ears, and symmetrically patterned white, black, and tan fur. Its eyes were wide and brown and staring up at her inquisitively. “Fancy a nap?” she murmured. Its fur was short and soft. It made a grumbling noise, and when she patted the bed, it hopped up and flopped down onto its belly, setting its chin down to stare at her. “Right. Excuse me.” It groaned at her, but crawled to the other side of the bed to give her room. She tugged the edges of the sheets from under the mattress, and slipped in. The comforter was blissfully heavy, and it and the dog soothed her buzzing nerves. “Sleep time,” she murmured, shifting until she was comfortable. Her back ached fiercely, but within minutes it was easing and she started to doze before long.


	19. Confession

She was woken some time later when the dog whined and nudged at her arm. She felt short of breath, sweaty and oppressively heavy. She scrambled up towards the headboard, panting. The dog followed her, whining and licking at her arm, her stomach, her chin, whatever it could reach.

“I’m okay,” she murmured, reaching up to pat its head. “I’m okay.” She swallowed thickly. “I am not okay. Move, move,” she said, pushing at the dog and rushing to the washroom. Vomiting on the nice carpet was no way to thank the Royal Family for the nice new rooms. Inside, she bent over the toilet bowl and retched for a few moments. The hound tucked its head under her arm, silent. She didn’t actually throw up, but with the way her stomach felt, she wished she had. Luciana looked down at the hound. “I don’t feel good,” she whispered, resting her temple on the blessedly cool porcelain toilet seat. “I don’t feel good at all.”

She petted the dog’s head for a while, trying to calm down. Her stomach still roiled from the memory of seeing a soldier’s top half land on the ground in front of her. She had looked up, searching, stupidly. The other half of the soldier was still in the saddle and the horse pranced about, trying to dislodge the dead weight.

Luciana swallowed thickly and stood. “Might as well do something productive,” she murmured, returning to her bedroom. There was a knock on the wall - she glanced over to where the hidden passage was. Another knock, and then silence. She dressed hurriedly in a loose tunic and a pair of shorts that could tie at the knee, and opened the passage after a moment of searching for the right stone.

Anduin stood on the other side, holding a tray of food. “You missed lunch,” he said. “Are you alright?” His brow furrowed. Luciana noticed his hair looked messy.

“Fine,” she murmured. “Thank you.” She stepped aside to allow him entrance.

“You don’t seem fine,” he said, setting the food down on the round table. He started to set it up, placing plates at two seats, and two tall mugs of steaming tea with each plate. Cutlery clattered as he spoke. “I won’t pry, but it might help you to talk about it. Was it a nightmare?” he asked, a knowing look in his eyes.

“Yes,” she said quietly. “The hound woke me.”

The dog had its nose in the air and was sniffing frantically at the food. “Are you going to try to sleep more afterward?”

“No. I can’t sleep right now.”

“Then you can put the dog out in the hall. It knows to return to the stables. It seems a bit hungry, anyway.”

Luciana did as he suggested, watching the hound trot over to the hall leading to the public area and disappear around the corner. She returned to the table as Anduin set aside the now-empty tray. There was a surprising amount of food on the table. “Thank you,” she murmured. She had the impression that he was taking advantage of her temporary weakness, but she was too tired to care.

“Don’t force yourself to eat if you feel sick,” he said, running a hand through his hair to try and tame it. Luciana retrieved a hair brush from her bag, which had been deposited next to the reading table, and offered it to Anduin. He blushed, but smiled gratefully and took it. “Thanks,” he said.

Luciana sat at the table, and stared at the food for a moment. Several long, narrow pieces of toasted rye bread held three different meats. There was a wedge of cheese and a roasted onion accompanying it, along with a handful of cherry tomatoes and a handful of fresh greens with simple vinaigrette. There was also a bowlful of fresh berries with a few mint leaves to garnish, and an apple sliced and arranged artistically tucked in with them. She picked at the berries first, her mouth feeling dry and tasting of blood and dirt. She ate slowly while her appetite returned. She appreciated the silence that Anduin let fall over them. He ate slowly, matching her pace so he wouldn’t finish before her and make her feel rushed. She appreciated that, too. And when he spoke after she had her last tomato and sipped the last bit of her tea, she appreciated his timing.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked quietly. “I find it helps, sometimes, to not hold it in.”

“You see things in the field,” she said quietly. “You’re there for so long you forget that some of the things aren’t normal, are supposed to shock you. Then you see something really bad and you remember and it all hits you at once. And then you get diagnosed with battle fatigue.”

“Were you?”

“Yes. Second tour. I’ve been responsible about it,” she promised at his expression. “I confess regularly. It helps.”

“I’m glad.”

“Mm. When the Horde hit us with their reinforcements, we weren’t expecting it. They hit hard and fast. We managed to beat them off but I got hit over the head with a mace and while I was sitting against a broken wall - blasted with a goblin shock grenade - I was dazed, wasn’t really aware of things. A soldier’s top half landed on the ground next to me. Just kind of... plop.” She tapped the table with one fingertip. “And I looked around, thinking, I’d better find his legs, he’s gonna need those. They were still in the saddle.”

Anduin’s expression was sombre as he listened. He didn’t speak, sipped at his tea calmly and let her continue.

“My first tour, I lost a soldier. Michael. Got torn up by worgs. First time I’d seen something that bad. I can’t even describe what it was like. I could almost feel it,” she said, holding up her hands. “I could almost feel the meat of his muscles in my hands. I don’t know how to describe it. I couldn’t look at him. I feel like I let him down. Like by not looking at him, taking in every detail, I failed him. I couldn’t look. The others had to fix him up enough to get a body bag around him.”

She reached for her tea and noticed that her hands were shaking. She chewed on a mint leaf. It was sharp on her tongue.

“And then sometimes I dream about Frederic. We’ll be in the manor, playing knight and dragon or he’ll be chasing his pug or something, but he’ll be all cut up, in pieces. He’ll fall all over the lawn if he trips, and he’ll roll around and piece himself back together and keep running around. And everyone acts like it’s normal, even me, even when he sits in my lap and falls apart and doesn’t put himself back together. Everyone laughs like it’s a cute kid thing. And they’ll just proceed as usual.” She swallowed the rest of the words - that the semen would drip from his corpse onto her lap, onto the ground beneath her chair, and she wouldn’t be able to move, to even scream.

“You have nightmares often?” Anduin asked.

“Every night, I think. Even having a dog, they’ll wake me up but I still have them.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, shrugging loosely. “A long time. Probably since my first tour. No,” she said. “Before that. Since at least my first year in the Academy. I killed a boy there, you know,” she said conversationally. “I didn’t know I was a berserker. He snuck a training sword, a wooden one, into the mess hall and whacked me over the head with it. Cracked my skull. I went berserk - I remember thinking, attack, it’s an attack, defend. I broke most of his bones. He was dead before they dragged me away to the med bay.”

Anduin didn’t comment, and she kept talking.

“He joined the Academy when I was thirteen. Three years less experience than me. That boy spent four months tormenting me. I was taller than him, and better at fighting. I was a natural, they said. I was a warrior. He was jealous, always telling me no one would want such a manly wife. I told him no one wanted such a spoiled brat in their squadron.” She chuckled. Her hands were shaking and she gripped her tea mug tightly. It was empty. “I thought they were going to arrest me, send me to the Stockades. They sent me to a resident shadow priest, who gave me a mental eval and sent me back to my trainers with a few papers that said I was a fury warrior with a berserk instinct. They shrugged it off like it happened every day and the boy was sent home with over a hundred shattered bones.”

“Is that why you’re so worried about control?” Anduin asked softly.

“One of the reasons,” she admitted. “The first. Second. The first was when my Mother dragged me by the arm into the manor after she found me swinging a practice sword in the middle of the night. It felt like she was pulling my arm off. I wanted to kill her.”

“How old were you?”

“Eight? Somewhere around there. She wanted me to be a proper Lady. I wanted to fight.”

“Is that why you joined the Academy?”

“Yeah. I wanted to fight, and when my Mother tried cutting out that part of me my brothers saw me dying and were desperate to help. So I told them, I’ll join the Army and fight every day.”

“Do you like being in the Army?”

“I love it,” she said quietly. “I don’t have to hold back. I have my squadrons, my brothers - and sister, now, with Jillian. People listen to me, I can strategize and think and fight and train. I can be loud, big.”

“You can be that here,” Anduin said.

“I don’t think I can. I don’t think I can explain to you what it’s like in the garrison. It wouldn’t be acceptable to bring that here.”

“We’d make it acceptable,” he said. She shrugged, set down her mug, still gripping it tightly. Anduin gently pried her hands off it and his own were infused with Light, calming her shaking. “Luciana,” he said quietly.

“Yes?”

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” he said quietly. She was staring at his hands - they were cool on her fevered skin. The Light was with him. “I hope it helps you to sleep tonight.”

He released her hands after a moment, silently collecting the plates and gathering them all on the tray. She had expected him to push, to try and get closer, as much as he could with every inch she yielded. Instead, he stepped back to give her space. She appreciated it, but at the same time wished he had pushed.

She did not return to sleep after he left, instead taking the opportunity to meditate. For an hour she sat still on the floor, the carpet thick enough to cushion her appropriately. With slow, even breaths, she routinely tensed and then released her muscles. She knew that one could not be anxious and calm at the same time, though she had once before managed to be furious and calm at the same time.

Feeling decidedly more relaxed than she had that morning, Luciana leafed through the books written from her notes on jinyu culture. Most of it was her own wording, and the writer had extrapolated some points quite well. Professor Theoded Grufflink was an active and renowned member of the Explorer’s League and spent his time in the libraries of Ironforge. To have her work put into his hands was a mark of how important her notes were, and also that they were a solid foundation for future work.

Luciana grew bored quickly. It was only early afternoon, and she had no desire to be mobbed in the middle of the city. People would be excited to see her, to congratulate and question and touch her. Then again, it might be a good idea to rush it out of the system before her next visit to the city, so people would be calmer next they saw her.

She stood, stretched her back out - the rest had helped it heal - and wet her hair, brushing it into a semblance of style. She dressed in black leggings and a cream dress shirt, which she cinched with her sword belt. Her best walking boots were stiff dark red leather that tied up the front, and she matched her double-breasted overcoat to them. She brushed her short hair back and topped it with her military cap. She opened the closet door, which had a floor-length mirror on the inside, and observed herself to make sure she appeared authoritative and important. She fished a gold brooch from her bag, shaped like a horned wolf’s head like the ones on her family crest, and pinned it over the left lapel of her coat. She also adorned her right hand with two gold rings, on her first and middle fingers, and wore a titanium ring on her left thumb. Luciana considered Bold Karasshi’s pendant, and slipped it on under her shirt. It was cold against her chest and warmed quickly.

She notified her door guard that she was going to walk the Dwarven District and possibly the Cathedral Square. “Should I know why?” the guard asked. “If the King asks I don’t want to tell him I don’t know.”

“I understand,” she said with a smile. “If I present myself to some of the public now, my next visit to the city might not result in flash mobs. Let people get used to me as a future Royal, but in limited doses. I don’t have the energy for more right now.”

“Understood. Should I send guards with you?”

“Should you?” she asked

“Probably,” he said. “Two guards is a good idea.”

“Then, please have them meet me at the gates.”

“Lady Knight.” He bowed his head and hurried off, leaving Luciana to calmly make her way to the gates of the Keep. There, she was met with two guards, a woman and a man.

“Lady Knight,” the man greeted. “I am Guard Stenson.”

“Guard Ulfric, at your service,” the woman saluted. “We’ll walk with you, wherever you wish to go.”

Luciana nodded sharply, and true to the guard’s word they followed behind her silently, unobtrusive but very much present. When she reached the Dwarven District, she garnered stares and very quickly shouts. The guards kept most of the swiftly gathering crowds at bay with their presence and warning looks - they wore the armour of Royal Guards, and the entire kingdom knew that to guard the House of Wrynn, you had to be unquestionably elite.

“Lady Amadeus!”

“Lady Knight!”

“Your Highness!

The third title quickly gained traction and people got past the two guards to grab at her hand, to touch her arms. One man reached for her face and she raised her chin and stared him down, looking for all the world as though he were a cockroach. To try and touch her face was insulting enough that she felt he had earned it. Luciana hid it, but she felt overwhelmed, and quickly devised a sound strategy to deal with it. She made her way to the Pig and Whistle, where the crowd could be better controlled, and chose a table in the far corner.

The tavern filled immediately and people crowded the entrances. She put on a calm face and a mildly amused smile, and ordered a full meal for herself. “Either of you need to eat?” she asked.

“We’re good,” Guard Ulfric said after sharing a look with her partner.

“Let me know,” Luciana said. “I don’t need either of you too hungry to deal with a situation, should it arise.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t,” Guard Stenson said with a grimace mostly hidden behind his helm.

Luciana ate in silence. When she was halfway finished she waved a particularly eager girl through. She looked to be thirteen, maybe fourteen, and she regarded Luciana with shining, tearful eyes. “It’s an honour,” she croaked, and swallowed thickly as she tried to calm herself. “I-I’m Mary,” she said, fidgeting. After a moment she sat on her hands to keep them still. “I want to be a warrior,” she breathed, her eyes wide and staring. “Just like you. I want to be strong.”

“A worthy goal,” Luciana said. “Always remember that physical might is not the only form of strength. A father who is patient with his children, a woman who is bowed but unbroken by grief - they both have strength, but neither is a warrior.”

“I want to be a warrior,” the girl reiterated, flexing her arm. It was thin and wiry. “I can fight!”

“Warriors have an innate fury that can destroy the ones they love,” Luciana said. “I have the fury and to control it is a burden. You have the potential to be a warrior, but you might serve better as a hunter or a rogue. Now, there is also the option for a monk, who is strong like the warrior but calm at their center.” She saw the girl’s face start to fall, and smiled. “I’ve learned much from monks,” Luciana said. “I’ve started to use monk combat techniques in the field. It can’t be said that monks are not powerful fighters.”

“But, you’re a warrior,” the girl insisted. “You’re strong.”

“I am both, that is true,” Luciana said, nodding. She offered the girl some of the blueberries provided with her late lunch. Mary ate them slowly, almost warily. “But if I had not been born with the fury, I would have become a monk instead.”

“Really?” She seemed doubtful.

“Yes. As it is, I might be a monk in a few years if I keep fighting so much like one,” Luciana joked.

Seeing her having a friendly chat with Mary seemed to invite more people to gather around the table, all trying to talk at once. Luciana’s guards were professionals and quickly separated them into distinct groups. The first group, seven men, were talking all at once, until Luciana raised her hand. They fell silent immediately and for a moment she was reminded of her own squadron. 

“One at a time, please,” she said.

“My daughter wants to join the army because of you,” one man spat. “She’s going out there to get herself killed!”

“I’m sorry you feel that way towards your child,” Luciana said. “Ultimately, it is her choice. You can try to dissuade her but if she has a strong reason, she’ll do it anyway. At that point you can either alienate her, or support and love her.”

“You’re lecturing me?” he said, aghast. “About parenting? What would you know? You only had your brother to raise and you let him-!”

She stood abruptly, knocking the table. She was taller than a lot of people, even men, at five feet and ten inches, and with a wide frame and scarred face, she radiated physical power and danger. “If you speak of him with disrespect,” she said calmly, noting the sudden silence of the tavern. “I will be very angry.”

The man was pale, and could only hold her gaze for a moment. She sat back down, readjusting her coat for comfort, and continued to pick at the remainder of her chicken.

“My son wants to join the army, too,” one of the other men said, quieter than the first. “I don’t want him to. I don’t think he really wants to be a soldier - I think he just wants to independent. He keeps telling me that you joined at ten, and he’s seventeen so he’d know what he wanted even better than you did. He’s a teenager. You know what they’re like.”

“I would suggest you speak to him about it,” she said. “Find a veteran who is willing to speak to him of the horrors of war. Tell him of your own journey for independence, and fulfillment. What did you want when you were seventeen? Looking back, is it truly what you wanted? Speak to him as a friend, and do not speak down to him. Respect him as an individual. He’ll take it much better than you simply telling him no.”

Her guards cycled her through the groups, and when she encountered a group of veterans she had a round of drinks brought to their table and reminisced with them on baffling Horde war tactics.

“They just... just screamed,” one woman said, holding her hands out in bewilderment. “They were literally standing in a line, screaming. Not even brandishing weapons.”

“Probably a fear tactic,” a man joked. “Except it only scared the squirrels.”

“I ran into a troll who tried to pee on me once,” someone mentioned. “He missed and peed on his partner.”

The whole table, Luciana included, burst into laughter. “I bet his partner was pissed!” she said, prompting more uproarious laughter.

Another group was soon brought forward, and the veterans thanked her for the drinks. “You’re good people,” the man with the troll story said, patting her shoulder. “The King picked a good one.”

“Thank you,” she said with a warm smile.

She had asked her guards to tap her shoulder at the three-hour mark. When the signal came, she excused herself, paid the tab for her meal and the drinks, and told the tavern’s day manager to keep an eye on damages. If the unusual amount of people in the tavern caused a broken table or other such issue, she offered to pay a reasonable part of it. “I wouldn’t want my favourite inn to spend all its earnings on repairs,” she muttered to the man, who nodded frantically. “And I expect a fine businessman such as yourself will be able to differentiate between regular damages and exceptional ones caused by my popularity.” She gave his shoulder a firm pat, and left with her guards in tow.

Truthfully, she didn’t have the energy or patience to deal with more crowds, but she wanted to visit the Cathedral. If Magdalene or Nancy were there, she wanted to say hello.

Magdalene was absent, but Nancy was present and an altar boy ran to fetch her when he overheard Luciana’s conversation with a Brother. “So the Lady Knight returns!” Nancy cried, her arms open wide. She pulled Luciana into a warm embrace, smiling brightly at the much taller woman. “Come, let’s chat.” She gently pulled Luciana to a more private room, the guards glancing around warily. They were ever cautious, even in the Cathedral of Light. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been... alright,” Luciana temporized. “We had a rough time at the garrison. Coming here is a welcome reprieve, for once.”

“Even with all the excitement?”

“This excitement is the kind I can avoid,” Luciana said, accepting the proffered glass of water. “I could just stay in the Keep if I wanted to. But, I figure if I make a public appearance now, I’ll let people get used to seeing me. Maybe when I visit again there won’t be a mob waiting on the docks.”

“It’s a good idea,” Nancy said, retrieving a wedge of hard cheese from the cupboard. She cut a few pieces and Luciana took one. It was a strong and tasty cheese with a thin rind, with tiny salt crystals that had formed in the center of the wheel. “People will get used to you,” the priest said. “You’re hard to miss, either way. You’re maybe one of two women I know who are taller than five foot seven,” she said. “How did you grow so much?”

“My captain likes to say it’s because I’m actually a terribly disguised orc spy,” she said. “I’ve heard people suggest I have some troll blood. Really, though, I don’t know the reason. None of the other women in my family are nearly as tall. Personally I think it’s just a warrior thing. I was a scrawny child, up until about a month after my tenth birthday. I shot up like a weed after that. I was five foot six when I was sixteen, five foot seven when I was eighteen, and now I'm five foot ten. It seems like I’m still growing.”

“Maybe you’ll just keep growing until you’re grey,” Nancy said with a smile. “If you even reach that.”

“At this rate I’ll be grey next year,” Luciana grumbled.

She finished her cheese and made her excuses. Nancy insisted on hugging her again, and whispered that she prayed for Luciana often and hoped that she would one day recover from Frederic’s death. “It wasn’t your fault, despite what you may think,” Nancy murmured, releasing Luciana and fixing her coat lapel. “But you warriors are all the same with that damn self-blame. You can’t save everyone, no matter how strong you get.”

Luciana held Nancy’s elbows for a moment, until the priest released her. “Thanks for your time, Nancy,” she said, offering a small smile.

She debated visiting the Mage Quarter but passing around the Trade District, the busiest section of the city, was not something she wanted to do. Instead, she wandered the graveyards, avoiding her family’s crypt. She glanced over to it instead, gave a short if ultimately pointless prayer to the Light where Frederic now rested, and made the return trip to the Keep. Maybe she could ask Anduin to pray for Frederic on her behalf. The Light would surely hear his clear voice. 

She left her guards in the throne room, giving them a quick thanks for their efforts, and returned to her room to pen a letter to Dania. She wrote of her new medals, her possible promotion, made a short note on how suddenly popular she had become, and asked Dania about the city. Dalaran was a wondrous place, according to books and soldiers who had fought in the Northrend campaign. A floating mage city. It was difficult to imagine. Luciana thought that one day, she’d like to visit. She wrote it in the letter, knowing Dania would offer to house her and also knowing she wouldn’t be able to accept lest her younger sister’s new home be mobbed. She signed off and handed the letter to a guard to be brought discreetly to the post office.

It was nearing evening, and a servant of the Keep caught her on her way back to her room. “Will you be having supper with the King and Prince?” he asked her. “They’ll be having it in the dining room today, just off the royal kitchens.”

“When?”

“In...” He glanced down at his plain watch. “Oh, dear, I’m late. Twenty minutes or so, Lady Knight.”

“Yes, I’ll be there. Thank you. Warn the cooks that I eat enough for two or three at dinner.”

“Yes, Lady Knight.” He bowed before rushing off. She watched him for a moment, before turning on her heel and shutting her door.


	20. Dinner With Kings

She made her way to the private dining room, leaving her overcoat behind.Music floated up from somewhere in the lower castle, tantalizing and sweet. She wasn’t sure where the dinner would fall on the scale of formal to informal, so she changed into a long-sleeved dress shirt and brought a formal gold-trimmed black vest with her, and waited just around the corner. When Varian appeared wearing the most casual loose shirt pants she could imagine on such a public figure, she handed the vest to a guard to be brought back to her room, rolled up the sleeves on her shirt, and entered the dining room.

“Ah, Luciana,” she was greeted, Varian having only just taken his seat. 

Anduin was already waiting, with a book set on the table beside him. He smiled up at her. “See? She remembers.”

“A servant reminded her,” Varian grumbled. “I could have servants remind me.”

“I would have had supper brought to my rooms, if that makes a difference,” she said, sitting carefully between the two. The stained wood table was round and only had room to fit four chairs.

“You don’t have to join us,” Anduin said. “I heard you’d taken a trip through Dwarven. You must be exhausted. I’ve been Prince my entire life and people still tend to mob me when I leave the Keep.”

“People are excited, and some of them angry,” she said. “I thought, if I could get a bit of it out of the system now, I might be spared my next visit.”

“You’re here for a week?” Anduin asked, just as the door to the kitchen opened and two servants bearing plates entered. Mixed salads with seeds and dried cranberries were first placed on the table, with glasses of red wine and ice water accompanying them. Luciana was glad for the water - the sun had beaten down on her earlier that afternoon and she still felt overheated.

“Yes, the Lieutenants of my brigade were all given a week after the Horde retreated.”

“Brilliant moves in that one,” Varian said, eagerly attacking his salad. Luciana found out why when she tried her own - the dressing was mildly sour, and the red leaves in the salad were bitter, but the dried fruits offset it and the nuts provided one of several different textures. Sharp cheese had been grated over the salad before being tossed, and slices of cucumber and chopped tomato topped it alongside shredded fresh mint leaves. “I read about your plan,” he continued. “With the time you had, you came up with something to win. How’d you think of it? Seems a bit out of the blue.”

“The Horde’s forces were moving fast,” she answered. “We had to move faster. Mounts seemed the obvious choice for that. Chargers are known for being aptly named - use that, and the element of surprise. If we hadn’t been able to muster as quickly as we had, it wouldn’t have worked. We have the stable hands to thank for that.”

“True enough. Not the first time a solid group of Chargers have turned a battle,” Varian said. “You’re up for another promotion because of that, aren’t you?”

“I’m a candidate,” she corrected. “Along with two other Knight Lieutenants.”

“Ah, but you’re the woman with the plan,” Varian said.

“I’m a woman with a plan,” she said. “I’ve been Lieutenant for two tours. Only a year. I shouldn’t be made Captain so soon, especially not with so little experience.”

“You’ve done incredibly well so far. We need officers who can think on their feet, keep calm in strenuous circumstances but fight like hell when the need arises.”

“There are more experienced Lieutenants who could take the promotion,” she said. “It’s highly unusual for a Lieutenant to be promoted only a year into their rank.”

“You’re worried about favouritism,” Anduin interjected.

“Yes. With good reason,” she said, looking over to him. It was easier now, she found, to meet his eyes. They were too bright, too open, but a pleasant shade of blue. “If I’m made Captain before I should be, it’s quite likely I won’t be able to handle it and that would result in unnecessary losses in ground and life. I would avoid that,” she said, mixing her salad a bit before gathering another bite with her fork.

“But if the people around and above you see that you are capable, wouldn’t that mean something?” Anduin asked.

“There’s no way I am, not yet.” She chewed while she thought, and swallowed. “Normally, one is a Knight Lieutenant for at least four tours. It gives you time to adjust to being in command of a larger group, but also to having officers under your command and using them as your arms. I’m not used to that yet. Making me a Captain wouldn’t help me learn, it would only increase the pressure and the chances of catastrophic failure.”

“So if you were offered a promotion?” Varian asked.

“I would politely refuse while being thankful for the honour of being considered,” she answered honestly. “I don’t feel ready for it, and I know my own capabilities. I have to, out there.”

They fell silent for a short while, until Anduin asked about the state of affairs in Westfall. Relief efforts had been underway since the Cataclysm more than three years prior, but the land was barren after years of strong winds and being over-farmed. The people who had migrated there during a period of great economic depression were bitter and jaded.

“Is there nothing we can do for the land?” Luciana asked as the first course arrived. Spiced beef steaks, thick and cooked medium-rare and topped with fresh herbs. Only Luciana’s plate, she noticed, had fresh mint leaves garnishing the steak. Both her plate and Varian’s had larger portions, nearly double Anduin’s plate. She quirked an eyebrow to Anduin, who was obviously pleased with himself. Hazarding a guess, Luciana thought that he'd noticed her affection for mint and had perhaps prompted the kitchens to include it in her meals more often.

“I’m more concerned with the people,” Varian said. “Whatever they claim today, they were and are people of Stormwind, citizens of my kingdom.” He sighed heavily. “The first years of my rule were not prosperous, and that damned dragon made sure of it.”

“If the land could be made farmable again, wouldn’t it give the people a way to grow food and kick start their economy? I’m sure there is a wealth of druids from Gilneas who would be willing to aid, and perhaps shamans from the draenei or Wildhammer who’d like to prove their worth.”

Varian looked up at her. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that,” he murmured. She looked down and cut another piece from her steak. “See, that’s another reason you should be promoted. You remember what each class is capable of and use those strengths in ways other people wouldn’t.”

“It’s just a puzzle,” she murmured, taking a bite of meat. She had salted it heavily, and reveled in the taste. Salt was hard to come by in a battleground.

“A puzzle that most only see a tiny portion of,” Varian countered.

“Could we gather druids and shaman for it?” Anduin interjected, just as Luciana grew uncomfortable. She appreciated the timely intervention. “I’m sure we could have plenty of volunteers. But would they be able to rejuvenate an entire province?”

“At least certain parts of it,” Varian said. “With farmable land, only the top few layers are affected. It only takes a year or two for the nutrients to refill, and if you rotate your crops it takes even less time. It’s really the strong winds and the lack of care, and trees, that’s really making it difficult.”

“Erosion,” Anduin supplied. “Without the roots of the trees to hold the land together and protect it from harsh winds, the land is falling apart. Which druids could fix,” he said, smiling slowly. “They restore the trees, while the shamans calm the elements. The sinkhole could be refilled once the shamans have done their work, and the cyclones stopped.”

“Bringing a stronger military presence after that would easily take care of whatever gnolls and murlocs remain after adventurers sweep through,” Varian added. “All it would take is a note on the Call Board. Young heroes would take to arms and march right over.”

“At that point, regular caravans of adventurers could be scheduled,” Luciana suggested. “It would make it easier to organize their efforts.”

“Westfall was rich farming land,” Varian said, smiling now. “It could be again. Why, in all these years, I haven’t thought of druids is beyond me.”

“They’re a relatively recent addition to the Alliance,” Anduin said. “We don’t have druids. It’s truly only the night elves who have mastered it, though from what I hear, Gilneas is catching on quickly.”

“Worgen who tame their curse can become powerful druids,” Varian said. “I’ve spoken to Genn at length on it.” He chuckled around a final mouthful of steak. “I’ll speak to him about it. It’s a good plan, at least. And I think you’re right,” he said, looking at Luciana. “Most Gilneans who have come to Stormwind feel strongly that they have to make up for deserting the Alliance years ago and building that blasted wall. If we asked for hardy druidic adventurers, they’d pounce on it. Same with the Exodar - if we asked for a small number of shaman to aid with efforts of reclaiming arable farmland for the Alliance, they’d likely send us twice as many as we asked for. And the Wildhammer, too - more of their clans joined the Alliance under Ironforge’s banner after we aided them during the Cataclysm. Young dwarves of their clan, eager to see the world, would jump at the chance.” He reached over to grab Luciana’s shoulder affectionately. “See? I told you we made the right choice,” he said to Anduin, who stared at him flatly while chewing.

“I see a story there,” Luciana said. “But I’m not going to ask.”

“I might as well tell you,” Anduin sighed. He, too, had finished his plate. Servants unobtrusively gathered them, and when the room was clear, Anduin spoke. “Father and I were going through all of the proposals. Hundreds,” he said. “Thousands of them. And I, being young and foolish, wanted to read through all of them.”

“I did warn you,” Varian said laughingly. Anduin gave him another flat look.

“He found your proposal and became absolutely enamored with the thought of marrying me to a Knight,” Anduin sighed. “He wouldn’t let it go! I still read through all of the others.”

“I did warn you,” Varian repeated. Anduin kicked at him under the table and Varian jumped, mocking pain.

“He became completely fixated on your proposal, even while I was searching through the others. He bothered me about it. Didn’t even read any of the others!”

“I was right,” Varian said.

“I’m going to kick you again and it’s going to hurt,” Anduin warned. Varian feigned fear for a moment, but his grin offset it. Luciana looked between the two at each exchange, thrown a bit off-kilter. “Fortunately for him, his persistence paid off,” Anduin sighed. “I was in a court meeting, between sessions, when a particularly ambitious Lord got me stuck in a play. No matter what I said, it seemed, I’d be making some kind of promise to at least consider one of his daughters for marriage. All I could think of was shit, and also Knight Amadeus. Because apparently, when Father repeats something fourteen times every hour, it sticks.”

“I’ve been told I’m memorable,” Varian teased, and this time he did get a solid kick. “Ow, hey!”

“I did warn you,” Anduin said mockingly. “So, all I could say was either yes, I will consider your daughters, and then I’d really be stuck. Or, I’ve already chosen someone. And your name was the only one I could think of when the Lord very politely demanded to know who.”

Luciana stared at him for a moment, before her shoulders started to shake with laughter. She braced her elbow on the table and hid her face in her hand while she chuckled silently for a minute. She took a deep breath, and looked up at him. “Are you serious?” she asked. “Spur of the moment, save your own hide?”

“Well,” Anduin temporized. “Afterwards, I went through your proposal again. To make sure. Father was practically in tears.”

“He never agrees with me,” Varian said. “I had reason.”

Luciana shook her head slowly. All she could think of for a moment was how terrified she’d been when she’d received notice that she was betrothed to the Prince. Should she tell them? What would it do, now that the betrothal was firm? How would it harm her? How could it help? But her name had saved Anduin an awkward and possibly damaging promise to another family, and using herself to help him was her duty now. “I was rightly terrified when I received those letters,” she said, looking at Anduin. “Betrothed. My Father had practically promised that it wouldn’t be accepted, that it was a token. And then you used me to escape a pissy Lord.”

“Yes?” Anduin said slowly.

“Well, at least we didn’t waste paper,” she sighed. Varian laughed, but Anduin seemed a bit put off. “My main worry was that I’d have to leave the army. I’m glad it could be worked out so that I could stay,” she said, trying to reassure him.

“That was your only objection?” Anduin asked.

“I suppose so. I always felt I’d be put into a political marriage of some sort, being the eldest daughter. Either that or I’d die. I wanted to wait to see who I’d be married to before I decided which I’d prefer.”

Varian was laughing in earnest now, and his laughter lightened Anduin's expression. “A woman after my own heart,” he said. “You see? I told you she was the right choice.” Anduin rolled his eyes, but Luciana could see that at least he was smiling now. _I can do this_ , she thought. _I can serve him. Do something good with myself._

The second course consisted of roasted pear filled with goat’s cheese and wrapped in cured ham, with a very familiar caramelized honey-mustard sauce and praline pecans. The dish was bordered with sharp fresh arugula and bitter baby red lettuce. “I think your cooks spied on mine,” she said.

“It’s your favourite, no?” Anduin asked. Varian smiled proudly, and Luciana could guess why. Anduin had obviously taken care to learn some of her dietary habits - her chewing mint leaves was obvious, as she’d done it right in front of him. But the fact that he’d sent people to interview the cooks she’d grown up eating from was something she could appreciate. It was a kind gesture, and truthfully, eating her favourite dish did help her mood. Anduin would likely realize quite quickly how important food was to her.

The third course was a pasta dish. The noodles were long and incredibly thin, and Luciana recognized pandaren style in the cooking. The noodles themselves were pandaren cuisine, but the sauce was a delicious cross between traditional tomato mariner’s sauce and pandaren stir-fry. Garlic-roasted winter peas accompanied it, and rapini added depth to the pasta. Luciana could taste an edge to it that indicated parsley and chives. There was little talking during that time, with Anduin only mentioning that he was going to spend tomorrow with Arina, his priest trainer. “Is she the priest who was on the stairs with you and the Greymanes?” Luciana asked.

“Yes, that was her. She was part of the raid on Icecrown,” Anduin said proudly. “She’s one of the heroes who are known as the Light of Dawn.”

“It was an impressive team,” Luciana said. “I actually wrote my thesis on Icecrown.”

“Really?”

She spoke a bit more on her graduating thesis on raid strategy over dessert. She was given one of three bowls of freshly made vanilla bean ice cream with honey-toasted oats and sunflower seeds and a drizzle of warm, bitter chocolate. It was accompanied by a ramekin filled with burnt cream. Digging into it, she discovered that raspberries had been incorporated into the sweet dessert, tinting it pink and adding a pleasant tang to its flavour.

“Did you eat enough?” Anduin asked when the meal was finished.

“Yes, thank you. The pear was a nice touch,” she admitted. He smiled widely.

“I thought it might be.”

Tea was brought out after that. Luciana sniffed discreetly at the air. Anduin seemed to have lemon-ginger, while she was given a strong black tea and Varian had a lighter black tea with a hint of citrus. Earl Grey, she guessed, name after the Earl Grey of Gilneas who had first thought to add orange zest to his tea. He had gotten flak for it at the time, but the tea had quickly gained popularity as a symbol of Gilnean culture. Dark, heavy, and strong - but with a hint of brightness to it that couldn’t be denied.

She sipped at her tea, added a bit of cream, and listened while Varian spoke - well, complained - of the various people who thought they knew his job better than he. “And he had the gall to tell me I’d made a mistake. He didn’t even insinuate it, he just flat-out said _you made a mistake_ ,” Varian intoned, mocking the man he was quoting.

“I hope you helped him realize his mistake,” Anduin said.

“Oh, I did,” Varian replied, smiling a bit ferally. Luciana saw a hint of his fury behind it. “He’s not going to bring it up again. Not within earshot of me, anyway.”

“Everything is within earshot of you,” Anduin said. “Or at least, within earshot of your spies.” Varian only smiled in response.

After tea, Luciana waited a proper amount of time before excusing herself, but was beaten to it by Varian who claimed to have a lot more work waiting for him. “Betrothing you is hard work,” he complained. “I have to tell everyone and their grandmother about it. Personally!”

“I don’t think you...” Anduin tried.

“With hand-written letters! And fruit baskets! That I picked myself!”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous,” Anduin said, flushing.

“Make your escape,” Luciana stage-whispered while Varian continued. “I’ll keep him distracted.”

“Don’t sacrifice yourself for me,” Anduin replied, smiling. “I’ve been putting up with him my whole life.”

“I have experience with ridiculously over-dramatic superiors,” she said. “You should hear my Knight Captain. I think he’d be better off in an opera house, to be honest.”

“I heard that,” Varian said, pointing a finger at her. She cocked an eyebrow.

“What was that you said about growing the fruits yourself?” she asked. “That must have been hard work, Sire,” she said with a cheeky half-smile. Anduin smiled when she did. She would have to remember to do it more often.

“Don’t you Sire me,” he grumbled. “Alright, that’s enough playing. I really do have a lot of work regarding your betrothal. The marriage ceremony will takes months of prep work and I have to arrange for envoys from all our allies. Be glad it will take so long. Otherwise the House of Nobles would see you married tomorrow, and they’d see you,” he said, pointing again to Luciana, “with child before the week was over.”

“That seems a bit rushed,” she said. Anduin’s face remained carefully neutral.

Varian shrugged one massive shoulder. “They find any reason they can to control the Court. If they could have their way and get an heir from you early on, they could theoretically use it to displace me and place Anduin half on the throne, and their own influence on the other half.”

“I think they’d be unpleasantly surprised,” she mused. “It would take considerable work and constant attention to get an heir from me.” She tapped her stomach, and felt no give beneath her fingers. “I’d need at least twenty percent body fat, preferably closer to twenty-four, and a very different lifestyle,” she added.

“What are you at now?” Varian asked.

“Nine,” she said simply.

“I went back up to twelve,” Varian sighed. “I sit on my ass at my desk all day. It’s making me fat.”

“You’re not fat,” she soothed. “I would put you at eight or nine. It could just be your ridiculous hair that’s skewing the numbers.”

“Hey!” he said, pretending to be offended. “My hair is perfectly reasonable.”

“It’s really not,” she said. “Maybe in our next spar I’ll cut it off. Save you the trouble.”

“I’d have to find Anduin a new wife,” Varian growled. “Just you try it, pup.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Are you two done with the pissing contest?” Anduin asked with a chuckle. “Didn’t you have a ‘mountain of paperwork’ to do?” Varian grumbled something rude under his breath, but reached over to ruffle Anduin’s hair with a fond smile as he passed. Anduin squawked and tried to straighten it. “That hasn’t been funny since I was thirteen!” he said indignantly, and then sighed in defeat. His hair was decidedly unkempt now.

“Do you want a hand?” Luciana asked amusedly. At Anduin’s nod of approval, she reached over and methodically carded her fingers through his hair, straightening it to a semblance of its previous style. He had a slight cowlick at the back of his crown, she discovered, that he usually kept quite tame. “Almost,” she said when she was done. “Have you thought of investing in hair cream?”

“It doesn’t keep the cowlick down,” he said. The tips of his ears were a bit red, though his face remained unaffected by the blush. “Were you going to do anything?”

“Just stop by the library, see if there’s anything interesting to read. My bookshelves are rather empty,” she said. “This week, I wanted to visit the Merchant Square and see if I can find anything to fill them.”

“Could I come with you? I’ve practically memorized the entire library.”

“I’d appreciate the company,” she said. His resulting smile was almost too sweet, too puppy-like to look at.

They spent several hours in the library finding books that interested Luciana. Anduin gave her the names of several people she could see about finding copies of the books for her own shelves, after which Luciana politely excused herself to return to her chambers. She could function on very little sleep, but she had been exhausted for what felt like months, and she relished the softness of the bed. Her bed. She planned on sleeping without a dog, but a guard silently opened her door just enough for a pug to slip in. 

The dog weighed no more than twenty pounds and had the typical wide, round eyes and squashed face of its breed. Its tail, tightly curled against its back, wagged furiously as it licked her face and neck. The dog had hopped on the bed after several tries with its short legs. She managed to get it settled down, and inspected its collar.

“Vicky,” she murmured. She could see the pug’s tail wagging in the wan moonlight.


	21. Talks

Several times in the night, the pug woke her with whines and a cold, snuffling nose. Only once did she manage to return to sleep in short order. The other times she lay awake for nearly an hour each, and when the sun rose she felt completely exhausted. “This can’t continue,” she murmured, rolling out of bed. The dog followed her into the washroom, and when she opened the door to her antechamber to let it out, it made sure to give her ankles a good wash before leaving.

There wasn't nay rush and she showered leisurely, enjoying the cold water on her head. When she exited the bathroom, there was food waiting for her on the round table by the hearth. A guard stood next to it attentively - she guessed that it was to show it was food from the kitchens, rather than an attempt at poisoning her. The guard saluted stiffly and left when he saw her.

Still naked, she considered the food. She pulled on her pyjama pants, loose cotton fabric with a tied waistband, and sat down to eat. There was a knock at her bedroom door, and she sighed.

“Lord Capaneous is here to see you,” a guard intoned. “He is waiting in a meeting chamber. He insists he sees you now.”

“He’ll wait,” Luciana called.

“Lady Knight.”

She managed to get through two pieces of toast, topped with Northshire cheese, parsley, and fried eggs, before the guard knocked again. “Lady Knight, Lord Capaneous insists and will not leave. He tried to follow me here.”

She felt a muscle in her cheek twitch. “A moment,” she said, barely keeping a growl out of her voice. Lord Capaneous, she guessed, must be the Lord who tried to verbally corner the Prince right before her proposal was accepted. Perhaps he was the one who had told Varian he’d made a mistake.

She dressed quickly in plain brown pants and a cream shirt that tied at the neck. She folded up the sleeves, took a moment to admire the intimidating scar that ran the length of her entire left arm, and slipped on a pair of soft leather house shoes. When Luciana opened the door, the guard who had been standing in front of it protectively immediately stepped aside. “I’m going to speak with the King,” she sighed. “I have no idea who the fuck Lord Capaneous is but obviously he thinks he’s important enough to demand anything from me.”

The guard was grinning when he spoke. “Aye, Lady Knight. I’ll wait here.”

She nodded to the two guards that flanked Varian’s door. Both smiled as though they knew exactly what was going on, and bowed their heads to her as she knocked on the door herself.

“Are you awake yet?” she called.

“No,” Varian grumbled. “Yes, come in, what is it?”

She opened the door. He was sitting up in his bed naked from the waist up, and likely stark naked from the waist down as well. He was reading over a breakfast tray full of food and fruit. “Who is Lord Capaneous and why is he demanding to see me?” Luciana asked, shutting the door.

“Oh, that one.” Varian sighed, putting his book down and making to get up.

“No, I’ll handle this,” Luciana said, holding her hand up to stall him. “But I’d like to know why I have to handle anything this early in the morning.”

“Lord Henry Capaneous,” Varian said, “is the Lord who tried to corner Anduin into marrying one of his daughters. He’s also the one who told me that I made a mistake. Didn’t even sugar coat it.” He scowled. “He should have. I’ve developed a bit of a sweet tooth over the years. Don’t be fooled - he’s arrogant, but he uses it well. He’ll corner you if you let him. You have to overpower him, don’t let him talk.”

“Anduin tells me I have room here to spread out,” she said slowly. “Is there any reason in particular I shouldn’t use my skill set as a warrior to enforce my will when others use their skill sets to do the same?”

Varian smiled at her. “I like how you think,” he said, considering. “As long as you don’t do permanent damage, I suppose. Find out what his complaints are and trounce them.”

“He’ll shout them at me the moment I enter the room,” she said. “As I’m firmly betrothed to Anduin, am I considered a Royal?”

“For the most part. You can’t speak in court as a Royal but you certainly have every right to demand the respect owed to any member of the House.”

“Good.” She smiled serenely. “In that case, I have something to do this morning.”

“Have fun,” Varian said, picking up his book. She closed the door firmly behind her.

“Tell Lord Capaneous that if he can manage the patience of a ten year old, I will see him,” Luciana said to her guard. “He can wait in the room he’s so arrogantly claimed.”  
“Lady Knight.” The guard, still grinning, saluted her before turning smartly on his heel.

Luciana dressed at a slow, measured pace. She deliberated between boots, and pants, and shirts, and then tried them on. She knew how to make herself seem powerful, noble, above others, and to accentuate her clothes and show off her new station, she wore a lion’s head made of solid gold pinned to her lapel. It had been left with numerous other gifts she had yet to open from a myriad of Lords and Ladies who wanted to make a good impression. She also wore two rings on each hand, on the first and middle fingers - silver-plated titanium bands, thick and heavy and shaped like wolf’s heads. She observed them for a moment, splaying her fingers. 

She added a gold ring to her right thumb, buckled a thick gold band inlaid with gems to her left wrist, and donned her officer’s cap. The Alliance crest made of gold rested in the center of the cap above the visor, and recently polished, it gleamed under even weak light. She pinned her insignia of rank to her right lapel as was customary, and straightened her coat.

Lord Capaneous was shorter than her by at least an inch, and was much wider at the waist. He was heavily decorated in gold jewellery, even wearing a crimson turban with a brilliant feather pinned to the front with a wide, circular piece of gold.

“Lady Amadeus,” he intoned loudly, looking her up and down.

“My title is either Knight Lieutenant, Lady Knight, or Your Highness,” she said smoothly. “If you cannot learn to address me properly, I will not be able to learn to hear you speak at all.”

His temples clearly showed how hard he clenched his jaws at her words. “Lady Knight,” he said. “I see you finally decided to honour me with your presence.”

“I wasn’t going to, but I felt that letting you pollute a room in the Keep longer than necessary would be... unbecoming of me. I wouldn’t want to give so much work to the servants who work tirelessly to keep us out of squalor.”

“My Lady Knight,” he started loudly, taking an aggressive step forward. “I must insist that you consider a proposal to counter the one that you...”

“You can insist all you like,” she interrupted, moving to pour herself a glass of ice water from a pitcher a servant had placed on the table. In doing so, she completely ignored his aggressiveness, treating him as though he wasn’t even worth her gaze. She delicately sniffed at the glass before drinking. “Doesn’t mean I actually have to do it. You recall who you’re speaking to?” she asked, staring him down. She felt her fury flicker curiously. The man wasn’t a threat to her, not really, but it reacted anyway.

“I believe it is you who should recall such,” he spat. “You are not yet a Royal, girl, and I am a noble of a prestigious and powerful house! Richer than your petty dog-lord father and infinitely more influential than-”

With two wide steps she was nose-to-nose with him, grinning malevolently. “Remember who you’re speaking to,” she said lowly. “I was not chosen because I can banter pretty words with shit-stains and pathetic, gold-encrusted has-beens, though I can do that just as well. I was chosen because I have the strength of a forest bear in each arm and hands that can crush a man’s skull. I was chosen because I have no mercy, I have the fury of a berserker, and while Anduin is King of the Court and carefully manoeuvres the beetles of your house under his heel I am on the battlefield with sword in hand and blood on my face, screaming victory over anyone who would dare to insist that I do anything.”

The Lord’s face was pale, and she carefully managed her fury, letting the steam and smoke filter out through her mouth but keeping the raging fires in her gut. “Lady-”

“You will address me as Your Highness, and you will not forget that I will soon be your Queen. You will not forget your place beneath me. You will not forget that I can kill you with my hands and enjoys your screams of terror as I make your interior into your exterior. You will not forget,” she spat, “that everyone moment someone breathes in my presence is a moment I have gifted to them out of the sheer compassion and nigh-infinite patience that I hold for _most_. People.”

She reveled in it, in her hard and even breathes, in the release of her fury on a deserving target, on the release of her tightly-held control and stiff shoulders. It didn’t have to be physical to be satisfying, she was quickly learning. She could enjoy the sweat beading on Lord Capaenous’s forehead, the trembling of his lips, the eyes held wide and the pupils dilated in abject fear. He did not know why she elicited such a strong reaction from him because he couldn’t see her fury - but he could obviously sense it, and she could see the urge to flee in him.

“The next time you want to speak to me,” she said smoothly, stepping back and sipping water from her glass. “I suggest you make an appointment through the Seneschal. You’re correct in saying that I am not yet a Royal, but that is a mere technicality. There is no question that I will be one soon, so it’s best you and your allies practice addressing me as such. I am Your Highness to you. Say it.”

“Your Highness,” he mumbled.

“Good dog.” She smiled, modeling the expression after a patient tutor, and gave his turban a pat as she passed him. She handed him her glass, which he took numbly, and she left him to the silence of the room he had invaded.

When she returned to her chamber, her guard’s eyes were twinkling in mirth. “I hear you took care of him,” he said. “Good for you.”

“I don’t take shit from anyone but my Superior Officer,” she said blandly. “The next time some pisspot demands my attentions, remind them what I’m like when my meal is interrupted. My food is more important.”

“Aye, Lady Knight.”

Luciana took a moment to bask in it. It had felt good to let some of her aggression out when it was merited. She was in the process of undressing when Anduin knocked on the barrier between their chambers. She sighed, slipping on a grey tank top, so named after the shirts dwarves wore while piloting their war tanks. She had kicked off her boots and removed her top layers and her jewellery, but she still had her black trousers on. She debated removing them, but thought better as she didn’t want to keep him waiting. She pressed the stone to open the door, and moved aside to let him in.

“You handled it well,” he said, sounding a bit sheepish. He offered her a pastry wrapped in a linen cloth. She bit into it without thinking, and the taste of tart raspberries and mint exploded into her mouth. Jam oozed out of the pastry and she tilted it to keep it from spilling onto the floor. “I didn’t think he’d go after you when Father did the verbal equivalent of beating him over the head with a chair.”

She chuckled quietly and gestured to the balcony. Anduin brushed the curtains aside, unlocked and opened the doors as he spoke.

“Word gets passed to me and Father quickly when it’s something that involves our House,” he said. “You understand why.”

She nodded, sitting on her leg in a cold iron chair without bothering to fetch a cushion. Anduin gave her a flat look and retrieved one for her. It was a long cushion with a joint, covering the back and seat of the chair. She stood to let him place the cushion.

“A guard notified me what was happening, and then a servant rushed up to tell me and Father both that you were threatening the Lord. He laughed, of course.”

She shrugged, halfway through her pastry.

“Are you enjoying it?”

She nodded.

“Good.” He nodded once, looking out at the mountains. They were rarely obscured by mist or fog, as the aptly-named city of Stormwind had strong winds year-round, save for a rare few weeks in fall and sometimes a week or ten days in the dead of winter. The Keep was placed to cut the wind so that people sitting on their balconies, especially the royal family, wouldn’t be buffeted when they wanted to sit outside. “Father laughed, and said that you were simply using your talents as a warrior, just as I use my talents as a priest to keep talks calm and he uses his own abilities to force his way when he loses patience with the more stubborn of the noble houses.” He sighed, and relaxed into his chair. “Tell me about it?” he asked.

“I am a warrior,” she said slowly, wiping her fingers with the linen cloth and setting it on the table next to her chair. “There’s no denying it and no getting around it. I have physical capabilities that go far and beyond what most nobles have, and I have a fury that even the most obtuse can sense instinctively. I’m an officer in the army, and I have the voice of one. I have the bearing of one. I did learn a lot of the comportment of a noble from my family, and I also know how to talk around people and make them feel dumb. It sometimes takes a lot of work to avoid doing that. I have all these things. I might as well use them. I let my fury be felt, and then I pull back into the demeanor of a cool, aloof noble and leave them off-kilter. I talk around them, make them feel dizzy and lost, and take control. And then I ignore when they try to question my orders, expect them to obey because I am the superior officer.” She shrugged. “You’d be surprised at how often people will act as you expect them to, simply because you expect it.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“I can’t say I didn’t. He very rudely interrupted my breakfast,” she said. “I didn’t get to eat my bacon.”

Anduin laughed. “I’ll get you extra bacon tomorrow,” he promised with a fond smile.

“In all seriousness,” Luciana said. “When I encounter someone who demands things from me I get very defensively angry. Like...” she thought for a moment. “A stubborn horse. You pull on the reins, and they pull back. And then you let them go, and they wander over to where you were trying to pull them. They only resisted because you were trying to force them.”

“That makes you sound like a petulant child,” he laughed. “What does that make Father, then?”

“Another petulant child?” Luciana suggested with a smile. “But really, Lord Capaneous was incredibly rude, and arrogant, to demand an audience from me and then insist that I see him. He reportedly tried to follow my guard back to my door. He was here, I believe, to try and frame a demand that I back out of the betrothal as a proposal. He’s a problem, and I tend to see problems like him as nails that haven’t been hammered yet.”

“I think I can see why Father was so insistent we firm the betrothal,” Anduin said. “I’m a very patient person. I feel that everyone should be heard, and given the time to speak their piece. You have absolutely no patience for people who waste your time.”

“Exactly,” she said. “There’s usually several viable solutions, and when I see them, I don’t want people to tell me to wait, to think about their ideas. I’ve already thought of their ideas, discarded them, and thought of more while they’re still processing the fact that there is a problem. I don’t want to parse and mince words with them while the problem persists. I can be patient,” she said. “I can sit for ten hours to wait to ambush an enemy unit. I can sit silently for two hours while people stare and whisper about me while I wait for my Captain to see me. I can sit for a painted portrait with two fidgeting preteen girls and an excitable seven year old with a costumed pug. But if there is a problem, and someone is trying to take the spotlight and be dramatic and prideful, I don’t see the point in being patient with them. They don’t need it. They need a boot up their ass.”

Anduin snorted a laugh at her closing statement, and delicately readjusted his position in the chair. “Well,” he said, trying to hold back a grin. “We’d make quite a pair.”

Luciana hummed. “Your father is a master of the Game,” she said. “And he has your best interests at heart. Of course he’s going to find you a perfectly matched partner to play the Game with.”

“You know, someday soon you’re going to be calling him Father, as well. And maybe you’ll call me Anduin sometime in the next decade.”

“If you keep saying things like that I’ll be calling you Sassy by my next visit.” He laughed again, and she turned away towards the mountains, feeling satisfied. At least she could entertain him.

“Will you call me Anduin?” he asked quietly. “Or, at least try to? On your next visit.”

“I’ll try,” she said. “But you have to understand how awkward it feels for me. I’m not part of your House yet, and while it’s fine for you and your father to treat me so familiarly, I don’t feel that I have the right to be so familiar with you. Not yet, anyway.”

“You have to get used to it eventually. Father already considers you part of the family. You know," Anduin added thoughtfully.

"Probably."

He gave her a flat look. "You know," he started again. "This is the most I've ever heard you say at once. You've loosened up quite a bit."

She glanced at him, eyes flicking over his face and posture. She looked back to the mountains. "I'm here now," she said. "This is my place now."

Anduin only nodded once, silently, in reponse. After a moment he spoke. "You know what he told me after he and your aunt finalized the agreements?”

“What?”

“He said that now he has two heirs, so the nobles who think he needs to remarry and make another can suck a horse dick.”

Now it was her turn to snort. “He did not say that,” she said.

“Oh, you have no idea the kinds of things he says in private,” Anduin said. “I swear to you, he said that. Exactly those words. He seems fierce and dark and brooding a lot of the times, but in his mind he’s telling people to suck a horse dick.”

Her shoulders shook in quiet laughter, and she looked over at Anduin. “You’re serious,” she said. “The King of Stormwind, High King of the Alliance, makes dick jokes.”

“All the damn time,” he grumbled. “He even told me not to seduce you.”

“Yeah, when he was showing me my rooms he told me to be gentle,” she said.

“Oh, my Light,” Anduin groaned, hiding his face in his hand. “Did he really say that?”

“Oh, yes. He told me to be gentle with his fragile, precious son.”

Anduin groaned again, and Luciana saw his ears redden. His face was hidden in both hands now but she was willing to bet his cheeks were scarlet. She looked at the mountains again, giving him time. She saw him scrub his face in her peripheral vision, and heard him when he breathed deeply. “I think he’s more excited about this than we are,” Anduin said. Luciana shrugged.

“I’m a bit too tired to be excited,” she said.

“You’re still not sleeping?”

She looked over at him for a moment. “Not really,” she admitted. “Having a dog there helps - they can wake me when it gets bad - but I still get up in the morning feeling just as tired as the night before.”

“Is there nothing you can do?” Anduin asked. “Maybe you do need a break from the field. I’ve been reading about it, about protocol on officer’s duties and such. Every two tours you’re supposed to be given a month to rest and recover.”

“I’m aware,” Luciana said. “I chose to remain at the garrison during those months.”

“Well,” he said. “Maybe the next month, you should take here. Or in Elwynn. Even in Redridge.”

She shrugged. “I might,” she sighed. “I’ve always stayed at the garrison because whenever I returned to Stormwind my mother would jump down my throat and try everything short of chaining me to the basement floor to keep me here. She would try that, but I’d just break the floor and walk out, chain and all. It was... unpleasant,” she said.

“You have a room here now,” Anduin said. “You could spend a month in the Keep, or you could use it to familiarize the people with you... You could visit Lakeshire or Darkshire and create bonds with their people as their future Queen. Or you could stay in Northshire for a while. We have a property in Elwynn that’s maintained for when Father wants to take a few days to himself. He likes to hunt out there. Not many people know of it.”

Luciana sighed quietly. “Maybe,” she said quietly. “I leave Sunday afternoon, and I have another full tour ahead of me before I have another month to myself.”

“A tour is six months?”

“Five and a half, technically. But yes. Half a year.”

“Do you have chances to visit, normally?”

“Yes. Because I’m from the Noble House, there are rules that state that if my House calls on me for official duty, my superior officer can’t refuse. But I usually only take two days, or less, for something like that. I have duties that I can’t just... continuously shove onto someone else.”

“I understand,” Anduin said, and fell silent. Luciana glanced at him, briefly. He seemed pensive.

“Sometimes, after a difficult run, we’ll be given a day or two of leave. If that happens, I won’t be returning to the manor. Last thing I want is to be mobbed where my sister lives.”  
“So you’ll stay here?” Anduin said, hopeful but trying to conceal it. Luciana wished he didn’t feel the need to.

“If you’d like,” she said.

“I would like that. I enjoy spending time with you, Luciana.”

“You’re tolerable,” she replied.

“Luciana!” Anduin said, aghast. She laughed at his expression, and he shoved at her shoulder, moving himself more than he moved her.

He excused himself shortly after that. “You could just say, ‘later’, and leave,” she told him. “I make enough excuses, hear enough of them. You don’t have to add to that.”

“It seems a bit rude,” he said, hesitating at the balcony doors.

“You want rude? In a few years we’re going to be kicking each other over blankets.”

His ears reddened but he laughed too, and Luciana smiled and considered it a victory. “I’ll try to remember,” he said, giving her a small wave as he left.


	22. Scars

She sat outside for a while, calming herself by counting her breaths. She wasn’t sleeping often enough. If she had slept the night before she would be in a sparring ring somewhere, fighting out excess energy. Without sleep, she had none to spare.

When it was dark out she headed back inside. The chill didn’t bother her much at all. She enjoyed Stormwind’s cool weather - even the summers were never worse than warm. The winters could be vicious, but people adapted and ram’s wool from Ironforge made coats to survive a blizzard. She thought on her father’s importing business, trading with the dwarves for ram’s wool as she shut and locked the balcony doors. When she turned around, Anduin was in her room in his sleep clothes. “I had a thought,” he said. “On your sleep. Or, your lack of sleep. You’re used to sleeping with... ah, I mean, next to eight other people, right?”

“Yeah,” she said slowly.

“Have you considered sleeping in the guard barracks? I’m sure no one would mind, especially since you’re a soldier. A lot of them spent time in the army. They’d understand.”

“It’s not that I’m used to people so much as I’m used to my people,” she said, moving further into the room to sit on the edge of her bed. “I’ve had the same people in my squadron, barring my scout, for nearly three years. You get used to people. You get close. Knowing that if something happens, they’ve got my back, is what helps me sleep. With Jillian around - she’s my scout, a worgen - we’d have warning that something was happening. She’d hear it coming.”

Anduin nodded slowly. “What about sleeping beside one of your family members?”

“I couldn’t do that,” she said, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t subject Ophelia to it, I wouldn’t be able to sleep at all with either of my parents, and my brothers... I suppose I wouldn’t want them to see it, either. The last thing I want is for them to feel bad. They’re the ones who brought me to the Academy when I asked for help. It would only make them feel guilty.”

“What about another warrior? No,” he said. “You said it was the familiarity that let you sleep. What about a paladin?” he suggested, brightening. “They could use the Light when you start to act out a nightmare.”

She shook her head. “Wouldn’t be able to fall asleep.”

“What about Father?” he asked. “You know him well enough by now. And he’s a warrior. And... Did you know his senses are heightened?”

“Yes, I’ve heard. No, I don’t think that would work.”

“Why not? If you don’t mind me asking,” Anduin added hurriedly. His ears were red again, she noticed. He was fidgeting a bit, too. He was beating around a bush.

“Fury,” she said simply. “Wouldn’t be able to sleep. Also, can you imagine how awkward I’d feel?”

“Yeah,” Anduin said. “What about me? You know me well enough. And I could use the Light.”

“Again, awkward.” There was the bush.

“Oh. Is there really nothing you can do? Short of bringing your squadron with you every time you leave?”

“Dog,” she said. “That’s about it. Yeah.”

He sighed quietly. “I’m sorry, then. I wish I could do something.”

“Are you having nightmares?” she asked.

“What? No.” He seemed genuinely confused. “Oh, you thought I was asking for me? Oh, no. I don’t have them as often anymore, and they’re never bad enough to keep me from getting a night’s rest. They were, at first. Occasionally I’ll relapse. I usually just go to Father’s room when they’re bad enough.”

“Right.” She nodded, and they fell into silence. Anduin looked like he was truly distressed by the fact that he couldn’t help her. She cast around for something to say. “I think, for my next shore leave, it would be best to get away from the garrison. Go somewhere quiet.”

Anduin perked up. “We have the property in Elwynn,” he suggested.

“It sounds nice,” she said. “I’ll look into my options when the time comes.”

Anduin smiled. “Oh, I’m keeping you up, aren’t I?”

She shrugged. “Not really, considering I won’t sleep anyway.”

“Right.” He fidgeted. “Well. Ah, if you can’t sleep, you can... always come and see me,” he said. “I won’t mind.”

“I don’t want you to have a sleepless night, too.”

“I don’t mind,” he insisted. “I can spare a night or two for you. Really.”

She saw that he was going to dig in his heels, so she nodded. “Alright. Thanks.”

He opened his mouth to make excuses, and then he smiled and shut it. “Later,” he said, and turned on his heel. He probably heard her quiet chuckle, just before the passageway shut. She wondered how he opened the other door, and made a mental note to ask if there was a trigger that could open them from the inside. It certainly seemed like it, as there was no frantic knocking at her end.

As they had the night before, someone popped the door open to allow Vicky the pug access to her chambers. Luciana picked up the dog and set it down on the bed. It made sure to wash her face and neck thoroughly and even checked her ears with its cold, snuffling nose before settling. And, as the night before, the pug woke her several times with whines and licks. The third time it happened, she sighed and sat up. The sun hadn’t yet risen, so she checked the clock to see that it was only four in the morning. She looked down at the dog, who cocked its head at her. It stared at her with inquisitive, wide brown eyes. The reflective layer in them gave the dog a bit of an eerie look. She pet its head gently.

Luciana rolled the covers off her and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. She was naked, and she took a moment to look herself over. Scars were noticeable and a common occurrence on her skin. On her left arm, where an orc had nearly bisected the limb completely, a long line ran like a rope from her wrist to her shoulder. There were various faded cut marks marring the line from previous fights. Her right arm looked marginally better, with only a short line on the meat of her hand between her thumb and pointer finger and another short scar on her forearm. There were three lines on her chest that connected with the three scars on her jaw and neck. They came from a set of claws that had tore into her face and had nearly removed part of her lower mandible.

Across the top of her chest was a long scar from an orcish short sword, and there were various stab scars from mostly Forsaken knives. Puckered dots along her stomach and thighs showed where arrows had pierced her. Her left thigh had claw scars that matched the ones on her shoulder and jaw, but there were from a cat-form druid rather than an orcish claw weapon. Along her calves were several more scars, and on her right one there was an old burn scar that discolored almost the entirety of the outside of her calf. Even her feet were not free of scars - the soles of her feet had scars from glass and bomb fragments, and her left foot had a long scar across the top from a goblin fragmentation grenade.

Luciana lifted her hands. The palms were wide, constantly orange-red because her good circulation and rough from years of holding weapons. There was a myriad of tiny scars from when she had climbed up a full rock face at the garrison training camp. It had cut open her hands, bled them and made the stone slippery, but she had been a new officer and more than willing to bleed to prove herself to her soldiers. Some of them had been in the field longer than she, and Luciana was nothing if not stubborn.

Vicky the pug had started to lick her lower back. She could picture the scars there. A number of sword scars criss-crossing the flesh, and where Vicky was licking, there was another burn scar. The healer had been sure to heal any nerve damage, and had managed to get most of the scar tissue out from over her spine, but it had been a long, difficult, and painful ordeal. The rest of the burn scar remained. Over her right shoulder blade, she knew there was a jagged scar from an orc axe. She had received it defending her men in a cave after being cornered by a much larger force from a nearby Horde encampment. The night elf Sentinels had found them just after dawn, and at the time Luciana hadn’t been aware of how many wounds she had sustained. Losing Devon had been the worst of them.

She stood slowly. Her legs felt stiff. Vicky tottered over the mountains made by the covers Luciana had shoved away from herself. “Hey, pup,” she murmured, petting its head. Its curled tail wagged furiously as it licked her fingers. “You’re very licky tonight,” she commented, picking out loose pyjama pants and the long-sleeved cream shirt that was quickly becoming her favourite. “Licky Vicky.” She rarely wore a bra as her breasts were not large enough to merit one. She was heavily muscled as any warrior would be, and the only fat she had to spare went to protect her muscles. Looking down at her chest, she wondered how much work it would take, how many changed would have to be made to make her body able to support a fetus.

She sighed, brushed the thought aside, and dressed in silence. Vicky the pug followed her as she left her room. The guards saluted as she passed. “Library,” she muttered when one opened her mouth to speak. The guard shut her mouth and nodded.

Vicky trotted beside her, occasionally running off for a few moments or getting under Luciana’s feet. She had debated waking Anduin, as he had asked her to, but she didn’t want to bother him. He needed his sleep. She wouldn’t disturb it just because she couldn’t rest.

The books in the library were mostly very interesting but her exhaustion made her irritable and picky and after a half hour of picking up books and then tossing them aside or putting them back on their shelf, she wandered up to the small courtyard attached to the throne room. There was a night elf there, Luciana could see her glowing eyes. She gave a small wave. The elf returned it briefly. Luciana chose a spot under a small tree and sat down. Vicky the pug occupied her lap with warmth and weight and an obsessively licking tongue. Eventually, Luciana took her hands away, and the pug settled down.


	23. Touch and Sharp Edges

When the sun started to rise, Luciana was on her way back to her room. Vicky had abandoned her for a young draenei child that apparently played in the courtyard every day. 

Varian was already up and dressed for a court appearance, and they greeted each other with brief good morning wishes. “Couldn’t sleep?” Varian asked, his brow furrowing heavily in obvious concern. Luciana simply shrugged. Varian patted her shoulder as he passed. He clearly had business to attend to.

Luciana couldn’t find it in herself to get properly dressed just yet. She hadn’t slept a solid night away in what felt like months, though truthfully it was only a few weeks. Prior to this stretch of sleeplessness, she had always been able to at least get enough rest. She spent time wondering about it, trying to think of a reason why her mind was suddenly unable to shut off. Her thoughts ran in circles and fell into disorganized heaps, and she gave up.

There was a knock she was quickly memorizing on her wall. She went to the unlit hearth to press the appropriate stone. The passageway opened to reveal Anduin, who was also still in his pyjamas. “You didn’t sleep,” he said, looking closely at her face. “And you didn’t wake me. You didn’t want to bother me, I suppose?”

Her mouth felt dry. Her tongue worked around her mouth to try and fix the problem. It didn’t work.

“You need sleep,” he said firmly. “And I’m not leaving you alone until you rest.”

“I can rest just fine,” she grumbled. Anduin sighed.

“I have some things to go over for Father. Would you lie down while I read them? You can use my bed, or the couch. Or I can bring everything into here. Luciana, this isn’t healthy.”

She watched him for a moment, aware that she probably looked like she was glaring. “Fine,” she said shortly. At the very least, he’d be able to wake her from a nightmare. She nodded to the passageway and Anduin backed up to let her pass.

His room was full of things, she noticed. Unlike her, he had been living there for nearly two decades. His entire life was in that room, from carved stone rams made by dwarven hands to the piles of books that were scattered around and on his reading table. And on nearly every other vertical surface. 

“Excuse the mess,” he murmured. “Go ahead and lie down. I’ll be quiet.”

She debated between the couch and the bed, but the couch was coated in a thick layer of paper and leather samples, so she chose the bed. The covers were folded and made up nicely, so she laid them flat and laid on top of them on her back. It felt awkward, uncomfortable to be so vulnerable. She kept her eyes open for a long while, listening to Anduin shuffling through papers at his desk. Occasionally there would be the scratching of a pen, or the clink of the pen nib against an inkwell. After a while, Luciana felt too tired to keep her eyes open. Still, she struggled to keep them from closing, blinking heavily and forcing them open again afterward.

“Breakfast should be here soon,” Anduin said. “When they see you’re not in your room they’ll bring it here. I think. I should check that.” He stood, and she sat up. “No,” he said, giving her a hard look. “Lay back down. I’m telling you this as a healer. Lie down.”

She obeyed only a little reluctantly, listening to his muffled voice as he spoke to a guard. Breakfast came for them both not long after, and Luciana was permitted to get up to sit at the table to eat. She wolfed it down, feeling hungrier with every hour of sleep she missed. There was extra bacon on her plate.

Anduin made her lie back down after that, and he returned to his desk to work in silence. With the food in her belly she felt even more tired, and was dozing soon after. She jolted awake, her breath quickening for a few long moments. This happened four times in fifteen minutes before Anduin sighed, collected some of his work, and stood. She watched as he walked around the desk, carefully placed his inkwell on the nightstand, and sat on the bed next to her. His back was against the headboard, cushioned with a fat feather pillow. 

She watched him for a moment, rolled her head back to face the ceiling, and closed her eyes. She could hear him breathing, felt his occasional movement in the minute shifts of the mattress.

Luciana opened her eyes to look over. He had papers on his lap, spread out on the bed around him, and some piled on the nightstand. He had moved the odds and ends already there out of the way, shoved up against the wall to make room for the paper. Luciana rolled onto her side, tucking her head in beside his hip on the edge of her pillow. Anduin froze. She could sense his gaze, and could imagine an expression of complete surprise on his face. She appreciate his lack of response otherwise as he silently returned to his work. It was easier to breathe when she lay on her side. She felt weighed down when she laid on her back. She dozed pleasantly, breathing in the smell of clean linen and something sweet.

Anduin patted her head and got up from the bed, returning momentarily with a book in hand. He had cleared the papers from the bed. When he was comfortable again, he placed his hand on her shoulder, brushing it with his thumb a few times. Luciana sighed lightly and dozed off again. She didn’t fall asleep, but time passed while she was unaware. At one point she grew uncomfortable, and moved to wrap her arm around the tops of Anduin’s thighs, using her hand splayed wide to pull him closer so she could tuck her head back into the space between his hip and her pillow. Her other arm was unceremoniously shoved between his back and the headboard, pressed comfortably between his pillow and the mattress. Again Anduin froze and again he remained silent, instead slowly carding his fingers through her short, dark hair. Luciana sighed again, and fell asleep to the unfamiliar sensation of gentle touch.

Luciana woke suddenly, as she normally would, when someone knocked on the door to Anduin’s room. With a swift inhale she was completely awake, and she sat up and was off the bed and on her feet before Anduin could react. Blinking a few times, she looked back at him. She felt as confused as he looked.

“Lord Capaneous requests an audience with the Prince.” A guard’s muffled voice sounded through the bedroom door.

“Again?” Luciana murmured, thinking quickly. It took only a moment for her to wake fully when she was properly rested. She looked at Anduin. “I should speak to him. It would send several messages. First that you can’t be bothered with him. Second that I can speak in your place, which would indicate that we are equals, or close to it. Third that I’m getting rather annoyed with him.”

“Alright,” Anduin said. His hand was absently rubbing the thigh she had been pressed against moments before. She imagined he felt a sudden chill without her there. “This is the second time in as many days that you’ve had to deal with him. Make it clear that there will not be a third.”

“Understood.” She nodded once, smiled briefly, and spoke loudly for the guard still waiting in Anduin’s antechamber. “I will see Lord Capaneous,” Luciana called. “And I am not happy that it’s necessary.”

“Understood, Lady Knight,” the guard said with clear amusement. Obviously the guards didn’t care if she was in Anduin’s room before the confirmation. They knew about the passageways, anyway.

Luciana dressed in rich blue leggings, black studded leather boots, a skin-tight white undershirt, her military coat left open to reveal her powerfully built front, belted her sword belt around her waist, and wet her hair and tamed it with a brush. She equipped the same jewellery as yesterday, adding her dog tags around her neck to hang over her strong chest. She wiped her face and neck with a cold, wet towel, brushed off her coat, inspected herself in the mirror, and was off.

The guard told her that the Lord was waiting in the same room, today wearing a green turban with a peacock feather, and she followed the same path to get there. Everyone she passed could see from her face and her stride that she was not in a good mood, and everyone but the Seneschal moved to let her pass. The Seneschal followed her, speaking only briefly.

“If you could, please remind the Lord Capaneous that he is either to make an appointment with me or the next time he appears in the Keep in such a fashion, he will be thrown bodily from the premise.” And he left her to storm into the room where Lord Capaneous waited, expecting a calm and peaceful Prince.

Instead, he got the wolf.

“Explain in short order why you are here, again, to bother the Royal Family, and I might consider letting you leave undamaged,” she growled. The Lord’s back had been to the open door and when Luciana spoke, he jumped about a foot in the air and twirled with surprising grace to look at her with wide eyes set in a paled face. He opened his mouth to speak, and she cut him off. “I don’t care to hear you try to explain why you’re here,” she said in a dangerously low voice. “I already know. You have arrogantly told the King that he made a mistake. You dared to demand that I reconsider and try to back out from my betrothal with the Prince. And now you dare to call upon the Prince as though he were some dog to be leashed and made to heel at your feet.” She stepped towards him slowly, pacing and looming over him until his back was on the table. He had a reputation of being arrogant, hard to silence. She had no trouble in making him wish he had the social space to piss himself in peace.

“Lady-” he started in a shaking voice.

She bent him backwards over the table with her gaze, snarling down at him. Both of her open hands slammed down on the table and he let out a shrill squeak of terror. “You will address me as Your Highness,” she said lowly. “The next time you have the sheer audacity to demand attention from your Prince, you will lose the tongue you wag at me with such disrespect. You will not speak of our betrothal again, Lord Capaneous. I find it suspicious that you pursue the Prince’s hand with such unrelenting and suicidal determination, going so far as to tell your King that he ‘made a mistake’. You have the base folly of a stubborn mule when you propose to me to destroy an agreement between two noble houses that shine far and above yours. You were rich. You were powerful. Now you are an old man and a fool and you have no business in our Keep. I am normally a patient and thoughtful woman, Lord Capaneous, but the next time I see you I will show everyone why I am feared on the battlefield.”

She abruptly backed away, picking up the pitcher of ice water and dumping it on him. “Go out in the wind,” she spat. “Get sick, and stay in your home. If I see you again while I’m on leave from my duties I might decide to return to them early.” She placed her hand on her pommel with deliberate slowness, directly in his line of sight. “If you have a legitimate concern,” she added in a calm, almost sweet voice. “Make an appointment with the Seneschal. Have a good day, Lord Capaneous.”

She turned on her heel, feeling mildly disgusted when she picked up a faint whiff of urine. Useless old man.

Luciana returned to Anduin’s room. A servant had, as expected, already come through to tell him of Luciana’s speech. “You dumped water on him?” Anduin said with a laughing smile. “That’s awfully rude of you.”

“I was tempted to punch him,” she said, shrugging off her coat. “But your father did say no permanent damage, and considering how weak he is I would’ve ruptured something important. Or several somethings.” Anduin chuckled. “He also pissed himself.” At that, Anduin choked.

“Are you serious? You scared him that badly?”

“Yes I did,” she said proudly. “It was easy. All it took was...” She looked at Anduin with eyes that tensed at the corners, schooling her expression into something dangerous and coldly furious. She shifted her posture into a copy of what she’d shown to the arrogant Lord, and slowly settled her hand on the pommel of her sword. Anduin watched her hand, and after a short moment in which she thought he looked a bit lost, he recovered and grinned crookedly at her.

“So you did threaten him.”

“I taught him a lesson,” she corrected. “To respect his Prince.”

“But not his Princess?”

She shrugged. “People can see why they should respect me.” She curled her arm, flexing her well-developed biceps. “Normally when facing one larger than yourself, you show them at least cordial respect. People tend to look at healers as though they’re weak and only realize their mistake when you absolutely destroy them. I’d rather it didn’t have to come to that.”

“Thanks, then,” Anduin said. He had retaken his place on the bed, with a new book. “Are you going to lie back down?”

She felt rested enough, but considering that she likely wouldn’t sleep that night, she thought about it as she unbuckled her belt and carefully laid her beautifully crafted longsword on an armchair. She slowly removed her jewellery, putting it on the coffee table between the armchairs, and when she only wore her leggings and shirt, she looked up. Anduin was waiting for her response expectantly. His eyes were tight. He felt nervous. “I think I will,” she said quietly. He smiled at her, surprised and sweet.

She slowly went over to the bed. Her stomach felt off, light somehow, when Anduin’s gaze followed her. She knelt on the bed, crawled over to her previous place, laid down on her side with care not to hit him. Luciana first shifted so she was pressed closed to his side, then wrapped her arms slowly around Anduin’s back and legs and splayed her hand over the outside of his thigh to pull him flush against her. She tucked her face against his hip, shut her eyes, and breathed in slowly. She felt his hand find its place in her hair. It raised goosebumps on her head and arms. “You don’t often touch people, do you?” he said quietly. “Nor do they touch you. I can tell.” His fingers played with her hair, rubbed her scalp gently. “I think it’s a bit sad, to be honest. That you’re so unfamiliar with touch.”

She liked his smell, she decided. Clean linen, something sweet and earthy, paper and ink. She wondered what she smelled like to him.

“If you want,” Anduin murmured. “I could touch you more often. Small things, like this.” He ran his fingers through her hair to demonstrate. “Your hand, or your arm or shoulder. Your back. Little things.”

She had let her hand relax, hanging over the bed from where her arm was flung over his legs. Now she splayed her fingers against his thigh and tried to pull him closer on impulse. Her right hand covered his side, just above his hip, and she pulled him, pushing herself against his legs. She bit down a whimper. Luciana felt like a helpless child, and was tempted to leave. It was embarrassing, but she had forgotten how nice it was to be close to someone, to be touched. She wrestled with her soldiers, fought with them, but their touches were rough and full of war. They were what they needed to be. Anduin was soft, giving and malleable under her hands, and he was warm. Not hot, but she had felt the absence of him when she had gotten to her feet so suddenly when the guard had knocked on the door.

“Are you okay?” Anduin asked quietly. She didn’t answer, instead curling up next to him, pressing her knees against his legs and then tangling them together. In silence, Anduin continued to brush his fingers through her hair, occasionally stroking his hand over her shoulder or her back or her neck. Luciana calmed under his touch, dozing again before long.

She woke a bit when he stood to use the washroom. There was food sitting on the round table by the passage to her room. Anduin saw her shifting slowly. “It’s still warm,” he said. She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes hard. “Did you sleep?” he asked.

“I think so,” she mumbled, yawning. The scars on her jaw still pulled a bit when she opened her mouth wide, and she rubbed at them while she slid off the bed.

“Do your scars pain you?”

“No, just a bit tight,” she said, shuffling over to the table. There was a lot of food on a wide plate waiting for her beside a tea tray with a kettle that still steamed. She popped the top open with the trigger on the handle. There was an entire stalk of mint steeping in the hot water. She poured a generous amount into the porcelain mug, added some sugar, and sat down to eat. She heard Anduin moving over to her, his footsteps almost completely muffled by the carpet. His hands landed on her shoulders, light at first. His touch grew firm and he massaged her shoulders gently. Light seeped into her muscles, cool on her skin and warm under it. “Thanks,” she mumbled. His hands cupped her neck, gently rubbing it. She slowed, leaning her head forward. It was nice, she decided, to be betrothed to a priest. She sighed deeply, rolling her shoulders and her neck when Anduin took his hands back. It was several moments before he spoke.

“You’re very muscular,” he said quietly. 

“Well,” she said. “I’m a warrior. I need to be.” She paused, looking over her shoulder. “Does it bother you?” she asked. “To have a muscular woman?” She had almost said wife. 

Anduin’s throat worked. “No,” he said finally. “Not at all.”

 _Varian said he liked it_ , she remembered. “Do you like it?” she ventured. “Having a warrior at your side?”

Anduin smiled stiffly. “You could say that.”

She blinked. She wanted to pursue it, ask what and why, but he was growing uncomfortable quickly and she relented. “Good.” She turned back to her food. Anduin’s relief was almost palpable, and she regretted asking in the first place. A thought occurred to her - did he prefer men? Is that why he didn’t mind her masculine build? It sobered her, and she took a sip of her tea to cover her sudden frown, quickly schooling it into something neutral. She hoped that wasn’t the case. She didn’t want Anduin of all people to be trapped in a marriage he didn’t want. The question burned in her throat but she swallowed it down with each bite of food. She would speak to Varian, she decided, sometime soon. He would know. The two remaining Wrynns were close, she knew, and likely shared almost everything.

She read one of Anduin’s books on Light theory for a short time while he worked at his desk. When the food was settled, she stood and stretched. Her back no longer pained her. “I’m going back,” she said, brushing her hand over his shoulder as she passed. She carried her folded coat with her accessories laid neatly on top. Her sword belt was looped over her forearm.

“Alright,” he responded absently, engrossed in whatever he was reading.

She went through her rooms to speak to her door guard. “Is the King still at court?” she asked.

“No, he returned to his rooms not a half hour ago,” the guard responded. “Seemed a bit angry. But, hey, he usually looks angry.” She shrugged. “It’s his thing.”

“Yeah,” Luciana mumbled, leaving her chambers to venture to Varian’s. Anduin was still occupied in his room with his reports. Luciana had caught a few words on the paper he had been holding. Something about the rabidly falling number of pig plushies and gryphon plushies on the market, and a frequently used trebuchet, and also the strange number of pig plushies with wings sewn on found strewn about the SI:7 headquarters.


	24. Broken and Open

She was given access to Varian’s room by two silent guards, who didn’t bother to question her. She did, after all, belong there.

“Luciana,” Varian greeted from his desk without looking up. Both father and son, it seemed, were swamped with work.

“I need to talk to you,” she said quietly. At that, Varian looked up with concern etched onto his scarred face.

“About Anduin?” She nodded, and he sighed and put down the papers he’d been holding. He stood and guided her with an outstretched arm to the hearth, where two overstuffed and richly coloured armchairs stood waiting for occupancy. Varian turned the heavy chairs with ease so they could face each other. “I thought you’d bring it up soon,” he said. “I think I know a bit of what you want to talk about. It’s your build, right?”

“Yes.” She sat slowly, back straight, and tucked her hands under her thighs. “He likes that I’m so well-built. I... Is he attracted to men?” She knew she wouldn’t have to explain her thought process to Varian. He was highly intelligent, likely more so than even her, and his thoughts were at least three steps ahead of hers at all times - and closer to seven steps ahead of everyone else.

“A bit,” Varian said slowly. “The way he explained it to me, he is attracted to women almost exclusively, but he prefers a masculine body. It probably has something to do with him being a healer,” Varian told her. “A healer and a warrior are always well-matched, and he is a healer to his core. He’s slighter of build, more like an archer, though he did get the Wrynn frame and he’ll fit it out well in time. You’re thick as a tree, coiled up tension and pure physical power, even when you’re relaxed.”

“Flatterer,” she joked weakly. Varian leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, and clasped his hands in front of him.

“Listen to me carefully, Luciana,” Varian said in a soothing tone. “Anduin tells me a lot nowadays, which I’m always thankful for. He has told me a lot about you, and how he feels towards you. I don’t want to betray his trust by relaying it all to you, and I also believe that it’s something he needs to tell you on his own when the time comes and he feels comfortable in doing so. There is absolutely no need for you to worry,” he said. “Anduin is not getting roped into anything he doesn’t want. You think I would do that to my own son?” He raised a hand. “No, you don’t need to mention that we’re royalty. I know. But I would find some way to give my son whatever makes him happy. I owe him that much, and as his father, it’s all I want for him. Safety and happiness. He’ll get both with you.”

Luciana wet her lips. “Thank you,” she said quietly. Varian nodded, and gave her time to speak. “I was lying on his bed trying to rest while he worked,” she started. “His idea. When he sat on the bed next to me I pulled him closer. Lord Capaneous made another appearance. You heard.”

“I have. Well played,” he praised.

“Thank you. I lay back down with Anduin after. I couldn’t get close enough. I wanted to cry.” Her abdomen clenched tightly for a few moments and she breathed deeply. She worked her jaw, remained silent, and Varian gave her time before he spoke.

“How long has it been since you’ve been touched?” he asked quietly. “I don’t mean someone pulling you to your feet after a fight, or pressing back to back in a battle.”

“I know,” she said. “I don’t know. A while.”

“How long?” Varian said.

“I don’t know,” she repeated.

“Luciana, I need to know. How long?” His voice was firm, left no room for argument - not that she’d give any. She thought back, counted the months, years, chewed the inside of her cheek while she thought.

“A long time,” she said finally. “At least seven years. Probably more. Twelve.”

“Since you first started to train with the sword,” Varian said, and sighed heavily, hanging his head for a moment. “Luciana, you can’t do that to yourself.”

“I didn’t mean to,” she said quietly. “It just... happened that way. Anduin saw it.”

“And what did he say?”

“He said it was sad. And offered to touch me more often, small things.”

Varian was silent, his gaze piercing through her. His eyes were yellow, she noticed. Not gold or amber, but yellow like a wolf’s. Hadn’t they been blue last time? “Good,” he said. “I will too. I don’t want you breaking down.”

“I won’t break,” she said.

“You already did.”

Varian stood, giving her shoulder a solid pat. He returned to his work, leaving her in the armchair until she could get herself out of it. She felt old, tired and worn out and alone. She wanted to go back to her barrack. She wanted Enaeon to fuss over her, she wanted Jillian’s incessant sniffing to get on Christopher’s last nerve, she wanted Kain to whip off his bra and wave it around someone’s head in the middle of the mess hall. He did it whenever someone commented on him needing one in the first place and it was always funny to see the person’s face turn scarlet when Luciana looked at them with reproach.

Luciana stood. Varian was silent as she passed, for which she was grateful. She didn’t want to talk anymore, not for a little while at least. She returned to her room, paced uselessly, sat on her bed and counted her breaths. She stood again, opened her passage door, backed out and let it close again. She didn’t want to bother Anduin.

She poked her head out, told the guard to please let the kitchens know she’d eat alone in her room tonight. The guard nodded without a word and left to pass on the message. The other guards in the hall shifted to cover the temporary hole in their lines, and someone else stood by her door while her guard was away.

She sat on her bed for a while, then went outside to sit on her balcony. She came back in, debated taking a cold shower, and instead read one of the books she had picked out with Anduin from the library. She skimmed the pages, not really taking anything in. When dinner came she ate as slowly as she had been thinking, sluggish and inattentive.

She didn’t sleep at all that night, even with Vicky the pug snoring softly, tucked between her arm and her hip. She thought of Anduin pressed to her, warm and solid. She wanted the same thing, now, and knew she shouldn’t have done it in the first place because she wasn’t going to get it again. But, wouldn’t she? Within two years, she and Anduin would be married. But. That didn’t guarantee anything. But. Varian had said that Anduin was at least attracted to her. But. She didn’t want to pressure Anduin into something. But. He had promised to touch her more often. But. That didn’t mean he wanted to be held in a vice grip. But. He had seemed to enjoy it. But...

But this was getting her nowhere, and was doing nothing for her insomnia. She sat up, rubbing her face roughly in frustration. Vicky let out a groaning sigh at the movement and she reached over to pet the dog’s soft side. The dog shifted onto its side, stretched its legs and then relaxed and sighed again.

Luciana slipped out of her bed, dressed sloppily in her pyjamas and opened the passageway. She raised her hand to knock, hesitated, felt Vicky lick her ankle, and knocked twice. And waited. It took twelve breaths for Anduin to respond by opening the door.

“What is it?” he mumbled. His hair was a mess and the cowlick at the back was enjoying its freedom. “Are you alright?” he asked, eyes widening from their previous sleepy state. Luciana didn’t feel she could respond. Her throat felt tight. “Are you crying?” Anduin reached out to pull her out of the passage into his room. “Luciana, what is it?” he said quietly. “What’s wrong? Was it a nightmare?”

Her jaw clenched and she blinked away the moisture that was gathering in the corners of her eyes. She ducked down slightly to tuck her head against his neck. She only had to wait a moment before he wrapped his arms around her tightly, which invited her to do the same. His hands gently rubbed her back and she calmed herself, breathing deeply. Her nose was pressed against the soft flesh under his jaw.

“Luciana,” he murmured. “Are you okay? Talk to me.”

I don’t know how, she wanted to say. It wouldn’t come out. Anduin didn’t press, and didn’t pull away until she did. Luciana appreciated it.

“Do you want to stay here for the night?” he asked. She nodded, and assumed he could see it in the low lighting. He took her hand gently and pulled her towards the bed. His hand was soft and smooth, fine compared to hers. The covers had been thrown back. He started. “Oh, your pug,” he said, laughing a little. “He just licked me.”

“Vicky likes to lick,” Luciana said, stooping to pick up the pug. It wriggled in her arms, trying to reach out to Anduin with its paws and plaintive eyes. Anduin chuckled sleepily and took one of Vicky’s paws.

“Nice to meet you,” he murmured. “He can stay on the bed. There’s plenty of room.”

She set Vicky down at the foot of the bed, where he sat and watched the two humans get comfortable. Anduin settled in first, familiar and at ease in his own bed. Luciana hesitated, until Anduin reached out to her. “Come on,” he encouraged quietly, and she lifted the covers, getting under them with some difficulty. “Lie down.” She shifted further down the mattress, laying her head on a warm pillow. The one Anduin had previously occupied, probably. She pulled the covers up to her hip, and tried to settle in on her side. Anduin’s hands found hers, gave the faintest of tugs, and she shuffled and shifted until she was close enough to awkwardly press their knees together.

In response, Anduin’s hand went to the back of her shoulder to give another faint tug and his legs opened slightly to let her fit hers in like a puzzle. As she moved her shoulders closer his hand stroked down to her lower back, and rested over her tailbone for a moment. “Alright?” he breathed.

“Yeah.”

He was only about two inches taller than her, but managed to get his head on the pillow above hers so they could both breathe properly. “Okay,” he murmured. “Relax, Luciana. Rest. Sleep.”

She slid one hand under her pillow, and let the other rest in the space in front of Anduin’s chest, tucked in against the mattress. She felt his deep breath, and then Vicky the pug crawled over her legs clumsily to plop down between them. It curled up in the crook of her arm and heaved a heavy sigh. She chuckled quietly. “Sorry, Vicky,” she mumbled. She could feel Anduin’s slow breathing. If she concentrated, she could feel his heartbeat. Vicky was warm and furry on her arm. She fell asleep. 

Luciana woke in the night, but not from a nightmare. Vicky the pug heaved a groaning sigh of complaint when she sat up. Anduin was peaceful sleeping next to her, having rolled onto his back at some point in the night. 

The warrior peered around the dark room, alert for whatever had woken her. She remained alert for a while, straining to catch any unusual sounds. Only Anduin’s breathing and the occasional creak of stone came to her. She concentrated and kept her own breaths quiet to continue listening. _Safety and happiness_. That was her duty now. She debated getting out of bed to check the balcony, bathroom, antechamber, and hallway, but Anduin took a deep breath and shifted, trying to work up the energy to speak. She could see his face scrunch, eyelids flutter. “Hush,” Luciana murmured, brushing the back of her knuckles gently down his cheek. He stilled, and she watched him for a moment to make sure he was resting.

She settled down on her side, tucking her arm back around Vicky. She felt tense, anxious, because she didn’t know what had caused her to awaken so suddenly. _Safety_. But, when nothing happened and Vicky did not react, Luciana forced herself to relax. She counted Anduin’s breaths, judging his inhales by the rise and fall of his chest. She could hear occasional light snores from his chest. His hair was messy, splayed around his head like a halo on his pillow. Luciana closed her eyes, and rested.

When the morning came, Vicky was the first one up. The dog needed to pee, it seemed, so Luciana popped the door open and let him out into the hallway. Anduin woke easily, stretching under the covers and rolling onto his side. “Morning,” Luciana said, shutting the door to the antechamber. Anduin’s eyes popped open and he looked at her, bewildered.

“Oh,” he said, sitting up. “I thought you left. You got up in the night...”

“Something woke me,” she said. “But nothing happened, so I lay back down.”

“Oh.” He smiled sleepily before yawning and stretching his arms and back. “What time is it?”

“Just after dawn,” Luciana answered. “Vicky wanted out.”

Anduin watched her and she turned away. She wanted to get back in bed with him, relax, hear him breathe. It was nice, she decided, to be physically familiar with someone. He was nice to be around. _Happiness_. She was supposed to be close to him now, anyway. It's what he wanted. “Do you have anything planned?” he asked.

She was sorely tempted, mostly from habit, to excuse herself for the day and find occupancy somewhere in the city. She was tempted to hide. “No,” she said quietly. “Nothing yet.” She heard Anduin shift, and looked at him over her shoulder. “Why do you ask?”

His throat worked and he cleared it, hesitating to speak. “Well,” he started. “I was thinking that we should speak with Father about his plans on our future nuptials some time soon.” The words were awkward in his mouth. “And, if you don’t have plans for the week beyond resting, I thought we could... spend time together, familiarize ourselves with each other. That is, if it’s something you want. Would like.”

She turned to look at him fully. His ears were red, but his face was unaffected. It seemed his ears blushed more easily than his cheeks. “I would like that,” Luciana said. The smile he responded with was soft, almost afraid, and hopeful. _Happiness_.His hands were playing with the duvet, squeezing and twisting it. He stilled his hands.

“Breakfast won’t be here for another hour at least,” he said. “Unless you’re hungry? We could have it here earlier.”

“I’m fine,” she responded.

“Okay. Well.” He wet his lips, worked himself up. “Come back to bed?” he asked quietly. Luciana could almost hear him buzzing with nerves. She moved closer to the bed and he watched her, eyes wide and hopeful. When she slipped in to lie on her back, pulling the covers back up to her hips, he smiled brilliantly and lay down next to her. “I didn’t think you would,” he muttered. “You looked stiff.”

She didn’t answer, but waited for Anduin to shift closer. She held still while he positioned himself in the crook of her arm, laying his head on her shoulder, throwing his arm over her stomach. He pressed himself as close as he could manage and she tilted herself so she could rest her cheek on his forehead. His hair was all over the place, like yellow straw, and she absently brought her hand up around his back to play with it. _Happiness_ was something she could manage, for him. He knew already what he wanted. She only had to provide it.

Luciana soon felt her eyelids start to close and she fought to keep them open. She liked having Anduin this close. She wanted to soak in the sensation, savour every breath she could feel expand his chest against her side. She recognized that having Anduin’s leg haphazardly tossed over her legs was allowing his crotch to press directly against her thigh. Males of any race tended to get morning wood, expect maybe draenei, and why they didn’t she couldn’t say. Feeling Anduin against her, while he wasn’t fully erect, was arousing her in turn, making her feel overly warm. She didn’t want to move and either he was doing it on purpose, wasn’t aware of it, or felt assured that she wouldn’t act on it. _Safety_. He felt secure, with her. That as good.

Even though she really, really did want to act on it. She licked her lips. Her mouth felt like it was full of cotton. “Anduin,” she muttered. “While I enjoy having you so close...” she started, and moved her leg slightly to help illustrate her unspoken statement. Anduin stirred, apparently having fallen into a stupor.

“Mm?” he responded, working his mouth. She moved her leg again, against his crotch, and he started. “Oh, sorry!” He rolled onto his back, away from her, and she could hear shame, see regret on his face. _Safety_. That wasn't supposed to be in his voice, on his face. She debated sitting up versus rolling with him, and chose the latter. She rolled so she was against his side when he stilled again. “Sorry,” he repeated, and now his face was blushing too.

“I only pointed it out because I didn’t know if you’d like the effect it was having on me,” she said. “And I would want you to be fully conscious for something like that. You’re falling asleep again.”

He looked at her over for several seconds with complete incomprehension on his face, and then he turned scarlet and sat up. She let him, taking the pillow he’d been half laying on and making herself comfortable with it. It smelled like him. “Would you?” he asked, not looking at her.

“Would I what?” She wanted him to say it. She wanted to hear him say it to her. Needed to hear the confirmation that he wanted a union, wanted her.

“If...” She heard him swallow. “If there weren’t consequences hanging over us, or... if we were already married. Would you have acted on it? On the... the effect I was having on you?”

The whole bed smelled like him and she had grown accustomed to it. But, when she pressed her face into the pillow and inhaled, she could smell it clearly. “Yes,” she said easily. His hands were twisting the sheets nervously. “Unless you didn’t want me to.”

“I would,” he said quickly. He sounded breathless. “I do.”

Her gut roiled, not in fury but in some volatile mixture of things she had pressed down beside it. She thought only for a few seconds before speaking. It was all the time she needed. “I should go,” she said, _safety_ ,sitting up and moving to leave the warm bed. Anduin reached for her hand and she froze even though he didn’t actually touch her. _Happiness_.

“Don’t,” he said.

“I should,” she said. “Because we both know what kinds of things could be done if I did act on it.”

“You wouldn’t be acting on it alone.”

“If I was I wouldn’t be doing it,” she replied. “But neither of us should.”

“You don’t have to go,” he said. Pleaded.

“But I should.” She stood, and Anduin’s hand fell back to the covers. He looked defeated, disappointed, and somewhat lost. She was tempted to apologize, to return. She didn’t. “It’s not permanent, Anduin,” she reminded him. _Happiness_.

“I know.” He recovered quickly and sighed. She was right in saying that they both knew the consequences of getting too close too early. Only one of them was the fact that she might not return from her next tour. _Safety_.

Luciana returned to her room. The door opened without prompt to allow her entrance, which made her think that the passageways were enchanted somehow to recognize people. The first thing she did was strip naked, pulse pounding, and take a frigid shower. It calmed her heartbeat, released the excess heat from her skin, and let her think clearly.

Breakfast was waiting for her when she returned, and as expected the guard standing over it saluted and left the moment she saw Luciana. Three eggs, bacon and sausage, toast with butter and jam and a dollop of delicious almond butter accompanied a long rolled crepe filled with fruits and chocolate and two waffles drizzled with sweet syrup from Elwynn’s sugarwood trees.

Her door burst open right after her last bite to reveal Varian, almost as if he’d been waiting for her to finish before popping in. “Let’s fight,” he said, grinning, and she felt his beast brush against her consciousness invitingly. _Come, pup, let’s play_ , it seemed to indicate. She returned his grin ferally and it was the only response he needed. _Safety and happiness_.


	25. Oathkeeper

The king was waiting in the sparring rings behind the Keep, jumping in place to keep warm. The mornings were cool even in late spring, and with the Keep blocking the sun from hitting them it was quite cold. She hurried to stretch and warm up, feeling heat suffuse her muscle and sinew. She moved with ease and practiced grace. It felt easy, familiar. She and Varian were the only two in sight, and they fought outside the rings, clashing together all over the field. They dodged around rocks, used trees for cover, pushed towards the river and ended up soaking each other in frigid water. They fought back towards the rings, nearly collapsed a shed, and only when the door to the Keep opened and Anduin gave them both disapproving looks did they stop.

“You’ve been out here for three hours!” he cried. “I can hear you screaming from my balcony!”

Varian laughed breathlessly, easing out of the aggressive crouch he’d adopted. Luciana eased from her own defensive position, feeling light. Anduin had tamed his hair and was still dressed in casual clothes, having taken a back route through the Keep to avoid crossing anyone but guards and servants. He had an expression of displeasure, but he couldn’t keep it and it cracked into a smile that matched the amusement that came from the rest of his form. “We were just having fun!” Varian said, reaching out to wrap an arm around Luciana’s shoulder. Both were soaked with water and caked in mud and leaves. Varian’s hair had taken the worst of it. _Happiness_. Anduin smiled when she did. She was smiling now, toothy and savage, and he was smiling at her.

“I did warn you about your hair,” Luciana said. Varian’s hand jumped to his ponytail.

“You didn’t,” he said, a true warning in his voice. Luciana’s chuckle answered him and he glared down at her.

“I was talking about the tangles,” she said. “That’s why my hair is short.”

“Ah, I’ll manage,” he said dismissively.

“Get washed off,” Anduin commanded, but his voice was fond. “We’ll have an early lunch. I’m sure you’re both starved.”

Luciana’s stomach was gnawing on itself and she threw a brief smile at Anduin right before Varian led her away to the showers. _Happiness_ came easier here. Where Varian wanted to fight and Anduin smiled and spoke softly to her. Maybe it was because she let it come to her, now. Anduin smiled when she did.

Once inside, Varian did not hesitate to strip himself off and toss the muddied clothes off to the side. Nearly all of his time was spent aloof, cold, hard. When around Luciana and Anduin, especially, he eased out of the mask and acted a lot more like a man and a warrior than a king. Luciana appreciated the casualness he treated her with. It was making it easier to adjust herself to her new roles. _Safety and happiness_ was perhaps not only for Anduin, not when she would soon be daughter to the king.

Varian’s body was hard muscle and scars embedded deep in dark skin. It spoke of years of hardship and stress. She could see him marking the same observations from her comparatively pale skin.

“How’re things going?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“Well,” she responded. “As well as can be expected. Anduin seems...”

“Eager?”

“Yes.”

Varian chuckled, tossing his hair over his shoulder. He had managed to clear most of the knots out of it and now concentrated on getting the mud off his face. His eyes were blue, Luciana noted with interest. The night before, while speaking to him in his office, they had been yellow like a wolf’s. “You know he quite likes you.”

“You’ve said as much.”

“You can see it.” He glanced at her in askance.

“Yes.”

He was silent for a moment. Luciana leaned forward to let the water hit the back of her head, checking the water coming down for mud. It was clear, and she straightened, using both hands to push her wet hair back from her face.

“He won’t admit it to anyone but me but he’s in love with you. Has been for some time.”

Luciana listened while she cleaned out the scrapes she’d earned during their fight. Varian only had one shallow cut on his cheek from when she’d held back a tree branch to release when he charged her. It had worked like a charm.

“At least since a few years ago, when you were in court with your Aunt speaking on some issue about finances. You gave quite the stirring speech and for a while even the worst penny-pinchers of the Houses were almost eagerly giving gold. His eyes were on you the whole time. I took note, watched him when you were in the court again a year later. He was absolutely smitten. Wouldn’t admit it. Now he does, especially when you leave for the Basin. And they say distance makes the heart grow fond. Well, it holds true for him. He’s quite fond of you.”

Luciana remained silent while Varian spoke, and then for a short time after. “It’s easy,” she said, relaxing under the hard spray of the shower. “Around him, it’s easy.”

“Tell me,” Varian prompted.

“He’s so soft. Not physically, but... when he speaks. When he reaches out for me it’s soft. I’m hard. I give orders, I yank the reins. He just... I don’t know.” She sighed heavily. “He... He invites me. Doesn’t ask, doesn’t... expect. He invites me and it’s like.” She stopped.

“It’s like?” Varian looked at her. She didn’t want to say it. She knew what she would be admitting with the words. “Luciana?” He knew, too. The King knew what she was going to say, perhaps not the words she would use, but certainly the message behind them.

“Like coming home.”

He smiled slowly, triumphantly, and measuring his trust in her, he allowed her to see it. He was a master of the Game. Luciana had known he’d been playing her, seen the turns and twists he’d been taking and causing. She’d also seen the end result, and she had allowed it. Varian had been smart to push her and Anduin together that first time in the changing room. He’d likely mentioned her wound, caused Anduin to worry and perhaps feel somehow responsible for his father injuring her, however shallow the cut. Varian had known her blood would be running hot, had known the first taste would be addictive, and had followed through with patience all the way to this point. And he’d continue to follow through until he felt he didn’t need to anymore. 

“Thank you for giving me a home to return to,” Luciana said, and Varian’s smile froze on his face. He’d caught her in a trap early on but she had sharp teeth and snapped at exposed flesh like a snake. He knew she hadn’t felt anything truly like home in a very long time, and by giving her one in his son he’d offered Anduin to her on a silver platter. He knew that she wouldn’t hurt Anduin but likely didn’t feel confident in it. Certainly not enough, as his smile turned frigid and he turned away from her, turning off the shower and stepping out.

That move revealed how disconcerted he felt from her comment. He felt unsettled because he’d used her brokenness to bind her to Anduin in a way that would protect the Prince. But using her wounds like that had actually hurt Varian, which marked how much he’d already integrated her into his world view. It wasn’t particularly harmful for him to trust her, nor was it for her to trust him. But they were playing a Game and Luciana felt that he was also using it to test her. She would not fail. Varian was the only person who could keep her from seeing Anduin. No one else had that power, politically or physically. Varian would see his son safe and happy and she would let him use her for that as long as she got to see Anduin safe and happy as well. That was her place now.

Luciana stepped out of the shower soon after, accepting the towel Varian offered her as a peace offering. Varian’s hair was still very wet and he let it hang down his back, wrapping a towel around the back of his shoulders to protect his shirt. The two were silent, Varian watching for signs of stiffness as Luciana redressed. Her back was starting to ache again, but it was only a dull throb from where she’d been pushed into a jutting rock.

The warriors returned to the Keep in companionable silence. Some of the guards had apparently been watching their fight from windows or catwalks and if their grins were anything to go by, it had been quite the show. Luciana didn’t doubt that more rumours about her were already spreading through the city. That was good. The more people heard about their future berserker-Queen, the less likely they were to try something stupid with Anduin. 

Anduin was waiting for them in the Royal Wing’s dining room. Several plates of food were waiting, as well. Luciana appreciated that Anduin didn’t try to get close to her beyond a light touch to the forearm in greeting. Touching in their chambers was one thing. Touching when his father was staring her down was another.

Luciana ate ravenously, most of her energy depleted in the fight. Varian did the same and laughed when Anduin made a noise of disgust when Varian managed to fit an entire half sandwich into his mouth at once. Luciana felt that he did it with the deliberate intention of getting Anduin to make that noise.

When Luciana felt full it was after eating a large, thick steak, two sweet potatoes sliced nearly to the back and drizzled with butter, two sausages with fried pickled cabbage, a meat and rice stuffed acorn squash, several cabbage leaves rolled around rice, fruits, and nuts, what looked to be half a head of roasted cauliflower, a chicken leg, a pulled pork bun with fried onions, and a bowl of mixed salad with a deliciously tart dressing. Varian had eaten even more than her and Anduin wasn’t fazed by the giant amount of food they’d consumed. Maybe he was used to seeing his father eat so much.

“Did you eat enough?” Anduin asked after Luciana had settled into her seat.

“Yes, I did. Thank you.” He smiled softly, and Luciana could feel Varian’s gaze. She didn’t turn to look, purposefully ignoring him. The cooks had put a sprig of fresh mint leaves on top of the stuffed acorn squash and she plucked a large leaf, chewing it absently while Varian and Anduin spoke.

“Do you have any dates set yet?” Anduin asked.

“The confirmation will be in the Grand Hall, the Golden Hall, and after the Cathedral’s Hall of Lights in four months,” Varian responded. “September seventeenth, if I’m not mistaken. There will be the usual fast, for both of you,” he said, looking at Luciana with a stern frown. His eyes were bright with amusement. “Two days, three nights, no food or water or company. And then a breakfast. I want to say a family breakfast, but there will be several unrelated courtiers present for the entire process to ensure it’s done properly.”

“Of course,” Luciana nodded. “Do we know who?”

“Lord Pembrooke volunteered,” Varian responded. “I believe he’s grown quite fond of your aunt. Lady Marina, Lord Marbrond. I’m still debating whether to let Lord Silverstone in.”

“He’s not overly fond of my family,” Luciana said.

“Then it might be a good idea to include him,” Anduin said. “Pembrooke and Marina favour your House. Silverstone actively dislikes it. Having him there would serve to make sure people can’t accuse the others of favouritism.”

Varian sighed. “Then he’s in, and I have the required number. Good. What colours, for the decorations?”

“Blue and cream?” Anduin asked, looking to Luciana.

“Navy blue and cream,” she said, and Anduin nodded.

“Fine. There will be a public celebration right before you start fasting, so you’ll have a chance to get some reserve energy,” he said, mostly to Luciana. She would burn through it much more quickly than Anduin. “There will be triple shifted guards and SI:7 surrounding the both of you, since I’m not technically allowed inside during the fast.”

“That’s in four months,” Anduin said. “When is there a break between tours?” he asked Luciana. "It'd be best to save that for the actual wedding, since that will take much longer."

“Amadeus Squadron gets theirs in the middle of the year,” she responded, taking another leaf. They were sharp and hot in her mouth and kept her head clear when she needed it. “But I can shift the month around if I need to. My soldiers might be glad for it, depending on the timing.”

“How about next summer?” Varian asked. “Early June. Outdoor ceremony in front of the Keep, move into the Cathedral for the oaths and then do a walk around the districts. You can use the Valley for the celebrations, or the graveyards.”

“I think using the graveyards would send a good message,” Anduin said. “Citizens usually have their celebrations there so that their deceased family can celebrate with them, like during the Day of the Dead.”

“There’s more room in the Valley,” Luciana said. “And we’d be celebrating under the statues of the heroes.” She blinked, and there was an extra half-second of pause that interrupted the flow of conversation and indicated she had been thinking. “We could split it half way. You know that the celebrations will be massive. Why not split up, have you go to the graveyards and I’ll go to the Valley. Being a priest, it would make sense for you to be with the spirits of loved ones.”

“And being a soldier, it would make sense for you to stand in the shadows of the Alliance’s greatest heroes,” Anduin continued. Varian was looking between the two.

“Sounds like a plan,” he said. “I’ll go with Luciana to show approval and one of her family members will go with you.”

“My brothers,” she said instantly. “They’re Chevaliers, and know how to fight. And both know how to throw a real party.”

“Fine with me,” Varian said with warm approval. Luciana looked at her plate. She hadn’t blushed in years but if she did, her cheeks would be red. “You can join up again in the evening in the docks so the workers there can join in for a bit. I can’t pull every dockworker off the roster for an entire night, especially not with so many people coming in for the ceremonies. But I can give them a couple of hours.”

“I’m sure they’d appreciate it,” Luciana said. “If it’s alright, I’d like to have my squadron come in for the ceremony. Most won’t be up for leave at that time, but...”

“But they’re your squadron,” Varian said, understanding in his eyes. “I’ll arrange for it.”

“Thank you.”

Varian nodded. “When I have a date set up for the marriage ceremony I’ll let you both know.” He excused himself, heaving out of his chair. “If I didn’t know better,” he groaned. “I’d say you won the fight.”

“I did,” Luciana said. “But only because you’re so old. Pardon me, I meant experienced.”

“Watch it, pup,” he growled. His back crackled as he stretched. “I’m still kicking.”

“And screaming,” Anduin added.

Luciana took another leaf, grinding it absently between her teeth. Without Varian, she was alone with Anduin, and one look at him told her exactly why. Varian had, again, put them together on purpose. “A year and a month,” Anduin said quietly. “In a year and a month, we’ll be married. And you’ll be Princess.”

“I still like Lady Knight better. Sounds less...”

“Frilly?” Anduin said, smiling.

“Yeah. Princess sounds dainty with all those _ss_ sounds. I am not dainty.”

“I don’t think anyone but a giant would describe you as dainty.” He shifted. “Did you ever name your sword?”

“I haven’t,” she said. “If I pick a name that turns out to be ill-fitting, I’ll be stuck with it. And people will ask, where’s your sword? Where’s such-and-such? But I am taking very good care of it. It’s easy, with mithril edges. Sometimes I wonder how they even bend mithril.”

“Dwarves are master smiths,” Anduin pointed out. “And they have an entire order dedicated to mithril. I’m sure they’ve forgotten more secrets about it than the rest of the world has learned.”

“Probably. They’re an old race.”

Luciana sighed, and debated plucking another leaf. “I’ll admit,” Anduin said. “I’m a bit excited. I think by the time a year is past I’ll have moved all the way through to anxious.”

“It’ll be fine,” she soothed automatically, looking over to him. He was indeed wearing a nervous smile, his hands tucked under his legs to keep them from fidgeting and playing with the hem of his shirt. “You’re not going to become King immediately after getting married. Speaking of, I’m sure there’s lots for me to learn on ruling a kingdom.”

“You’re used to command,” Anduin said. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“I’m used to command over soldiers. Not civilians, and certainly not nobles.”

“I’ll handle them,” Anduin said with a smile. “It’s almost become a game to me. Which I suppose it should be. But it’s so easy to make them underestimate me.”

“It’s because you’re a healer. People tend to see healers as gentle and benevolent, but a healer’s hands are the bloodiest and they can be downright ruthless if their patient is threatened. I’ve seen a healer cut people down with their surgical tools. I think a healer is the only one who can directly disobey their SO and get away with it.”

“SO?” Anduin asked.

“Superior officer. Usually a direct superior, like a Knight Captain to his Lieutenants. Or me to my squadron.”

“I see.” She shifted in her seat, burped with her mouth closed and excused herself for it. “Are you excited?” Anduin asked. “For any of it.”

She looked at him. He was nervous again, not excited-nervous but nervous in the way she didn’t like, the way that tended to be tailed by shame if she didn’t respond the right way. “Not right now,” she said. “I tend to process things as they come. There’s less to be done about something that’s a year away than something that’s a week away.”

“Oh.” She hadn’t answered quite right, and she could see that she needed to add something.

“But, yes,” she answered quietly. “I didn’t... expect to actually want to marry. I always thought I’d just end up putting up with someone for a week between tours.”

“You want to?” he said in a small voice.

“I did say that,” she answered with a small smile.

“Is it because of this morning?”

“No,” she said immediately. “Well, that’s a part of it, I guess. But it’s not the reason. I don’t want to get married...” she paused. She had been avoiding saying the to you part, and she had to start saying it. “I don’t want to marry you just to be able to do that. It’s more an... enjoyable side benefit.”

“But you are looking forward to it?”

She looked up at him, and his expression was hard to decipher. She leaned forward, knowing that there were always ears in the walls and while the guards would not betray the House they served and protected so loyally, rumours did tend to spread from a guard’s mouth to their family, and from their family onwards. “I enjoy touching you, Anduin,” she whispered. “And I enjoy being touched by you. I don’t need to have sex with you to experience either of those things. But I imagine I would enjoy it quite a bit, if the moment in the warrior house was any indication.”

His dark cheeks were dusted pink when she leaned back. “Oh,” he said simply. She waited for him to say something else, and when he didn’t, she smiled. She had, it seemed, communicated it properly for once.

“To answer your first question, yes,” she said just as quietly. “I’m excited to think that in a year and a month, I’ll be standing at an altar with you.”

He smiled, and it was hesitant but full of joy and Luciana considered it an overwhelming victory. Her victory rush was interrupted by a loud knock at the door that seemed to startle Anduin out of a stupor. “Your meeting with Lady McAlin is in one hour, Prince Anduin.” Luciana recognized the Seneschal’s voice.

“I should go prepare,” Anduin said in a rush, standing. “Will...” He looked at Luciana imploringly. “Will I see you tonight? I know we should be careful. I will be. I just... You slept well last night, and I liked waking up with you there.” _Safety and happiness_.

Luciana took his hand. The gesture was foreign to her and was a conscious effort, but she was rewarded with a soft smile full of invitation - to do it more often, to touch more freely. Luciana nodded once, brushed her thumb over his knuckles where a lesser Lord might kiss a signet ring. Anduin was rubbing his knuckles with his other hand when he left the room.

Luciana spent the week in much the same way she had spent the first two days. There were decisions to be made about the nuptials, even though they had a year to prepare. There was the constant overhanging threat that she might not live to see them. Her last night in Stormwind, she could not sleep, and instead watched Anduin’s eyelids flicker as he dreamed.

“I will come back,” she said softly. “I will always come back. To you. Home. I will always come home to you.”

She brushed the backs of her fingers down his cheek and he stirred briefly. He didn’t snore very loudly at all, and only when he lay on his back. She listened to him breath in the quiet darkness of his bedroom.


	26. Oathkeeper, Revealed

Luciana’s squadron was glad to have her back, least of all because she was their Knight, dammit, and they weren’t going to bow their stubborn heads to any other until she was long dead and gone.

Even Enaeon, usually a bit reserved with being physical with the tiny humans around him, pulled her into a hug. “It is good to see you again, my friend!” he laughed.

They had behaved well during her absence, for once, and she rewarded them by only making them run twenty minutes of suicides and then jogging them over to the Bloody Cliffs, where she’d earned two palms full of scars. She had them meditate for a short time while she kept watch on horse. She set up spars between squadrons and fought against her Knights, three to one. Then, she gave command back to the Knights and brought her squadron to the beaches.

Her new squadron member, replacing George, was a stocky Duskwood woman named Victoria. She and Jillian had had a rocky start, but it had smoothed over quickly. Duskwood was full of feral worgen, and while Jillian could certainly act the part, she was a Gilnean Royal Hunter and usually carried herself as such. Victoria, or Vic, was not a fancy woman, and she could appreciate Jillian’s singular focus and generally cautious but amicable nature. The fact that Vic absolutely adored anything furry on four legs seemed to have helped, and Jillian let her scratch behind her ears or help brush out her fur in the barrack before lights out. It seemed to Luciana that much of the reason they got along so well was because Jillian had been willing to reach a hand out to Vic first.

Within a week of her return, Luciana was offered the promotion to Knight Captain. She politely refused, stating that she felt honoured for the consideration but did not think she was ready to handle the responsibility. She requested more time to become accustomed to having officers under her, using them as active extensions of her will as a Captain should be able to. “In time,” Knight Champion Servol said, “you will be able to command entire Legions. But for now, I trust in your own assessment of your abilities. The rank will be passed to someone who is completely and confidently qualified.”

“Thank you, Sir. It’s an honour to be considered.”

She also found out that same week that the Horde recognized her on sight. An advantage of having Vic on the team was her oddly acquired but decidedly fluent capabilities in Orcish. “They called you Scarjaw,” she told Luciana after they handily dispatched a small unit of Horde forces. They took one prisoner back to base to be handed off to the prison wardens. “Good name to have, with orcs. They respect a name like that.”

“It does sound pretty cool,” Luciana admitted. “Better than being called Pinkskin. Makes us sound like Brackwell potbellies.”

The Arathi Basin was well in hand by this time, and the 113th Company was dispatched to Northrend to reinforce Valiance Keep while nearby farmland and mine tunnels were reclaimed from the remnants of Scourge forces.

The boat ride there was rough and stormy and no amount of ginger could help Jillian, who took to human form and moaned her way through two weeks of seasickness. Enaeon did what he could. Draenei, it seemed, rarely got motion sickness. Even Christopher, with his stomach of steel, suffered from the incessant rocking of the boat.

The icebreaker ship docked at Valiance Keep on a calm, clear day. It was almost hot under the sun and Luciana watched Jillian kneel to kiss the ground theatrically. Still dizzy, the scout let Lars bring her to a nearby bench to let the seasickness subside before they moved on. The other squadrons were in similar shape, and their Knights came to Luciana to report.

“Nothing major,” Grayson said. “Scout’s in the same shape as yours.”

“All the scouts are,” Oaken said with a glance to Plains. “They’re worgen. Poor kiddos. They’ll settle soon.”

“Gear’s in fine condition,” Plains added. “Bit of salt in the leathers but that washes right out. Swords could use a whetstone after the sea mist.”

“I’ll leave that to you,” she told Plains, who nodded his assent. “Oaken, head to the barracks and make sure they’re ready for us. Grayson, oversee the gear coming down. Leave your soldiers with me.”

“Aye, Sir.” Three salutes, and the Knights were off. Luciana watched them take quick stops with their individual squadrons to relay the news, and then they split in three directions: the barracks, the boat, and the armoury.

Luciana sat with the soldiers, talked with them, made sure everyone was recovering in short order. All but the scouts were already regaining their ground legs. Luciana sent a few Plains men for mead and light food from the inn, requisitioned under her name. She’d handle the logistics of it after speaking with General Arlos. 

Generals did not hold a regular place in the army as they did before the first invasion of the orcish Horde. Instead they now took command of factions that worked alongside or even inside the army, such as the Valiance Expedition, and were put in place by the King himself. A General’s sole focus was the pursuit of the faction’s interests, and while they could command anyone from Knight to Knight Champion, the orders weren’t always obeyed because they were considered officers of the Home Guard rather than the Army. Luciana resolved to keep good relations with the General, as it would reflect on her more than it would him.

It only took a week to properly situate the Company within Valiance Keep, even with a sudden and brief appearance by a frightening individual known as Damran the Red. Damran was a monster, and everyone in the Alliance knew it. To see the demonic Damran there, climbing walls and paying with nerubian guts, was more than a little terrifying. By the way the locals reacted, it was not a regular or expected occurrence. Luciana ordered eyes-only on Damran, and tried to keep her focus on what mattered.

Luciana had to work to make sure all orders pertaining to her Company were channeled through her rather than brought straight to her Knights. It was completely disrespectful of Arlos to do so, but Luciana quelled the rage it caused and instead had her Knights refuse all orders than did not come from her. Arlos quickly learned that it was easier to just hand everything to Luciana and let her sort it out. They were almost immediately given assignments in Farshire, the farming town directly north of Valiance Keep, and she sent Plains and Oaken out. They worked well together, having completed many missions together.

She sent Grayson to Kaskala, to the tuskarr, as envoys. They'd behaved well in Pandaria with the Jinyu and she knew they would be just as good here. Amadeus took to the beaches outside Valiance Keep to give a final push against the nerubians that stilled swarmed from underground tunnels. The original paths had been collapsed but new ones were dug out and it took a month and a half, heavy explosives, and a lot of killing to get the nerubians off the beach and back into their dead city under the land. Luciana earned a new set of scars along her chest, carving almost vertically between her pectorals. Two marks from a nerubian’s claws. The poison caused more trouble than the cuts and Enaeon had his work cut out for him when she fell from it in the midst of battle. On the bright side, Vic learned how to use dwarven cannons.

113th Company rejoined after six weeks, spent a few days in recovery, and then Luciana accepted a mission to clear aggressive wildlife from Farshire’s borders. On their short march to the town, a band of Horde assassins jumped them and a knife nearly found a home in Luciana’s skull. She knew they were there for her, and had become enraged, slaughtering half of the force before they could realize their mistake. Enaeon had healed the resulting cut on her right temple, but it left a three-inch scar from the corner of her eyebrow that interrupted her hairline quite visibly. Vic said it made her look badass.

“She already looks badass,” Jillian argued. “You’ve seen her naked, for fuck’s sake.”

“Yeah, but like. Temple scar.”

The two argued back and forth until they reached Farshire, where they were given a warm welcome and a night at the tavern. Their mission started at dawn the next day, when Luciana had two local trappers teach her Company on the finer points of hunting woolly rhinos, mammoths, and tundra wolves. The caribou were favoured for their meat but they were mostly located on the eastern side of the tundra, away from Farshire. And the other animals were decent eating, anyway.

The hunt began in the afternoon and ended three weeks later. 113th Company were each given wolf fur cloaks and mammoth skin gloves, which were incredibly warm and supple. At Luciana’s request, each soldier was given a patch of rhino leather with the white fur still attached, a spot of red dyed into the center. DEHTA, Druids for the Ethical and Humane Treatment of Animals, had become familiar to them over the three weeks, and was something of a joke. Some meat and furs were sent to Valiance Keep as thanks for their continued support.

Luciana gave her Company a few days to rest, and then accepted a mission in the Grizzly Hills. Amberpine Lodge was having trouble again with local worgen population. The Wolfcult, they called themselves, had once again taken to attacking Amberpine’s famed Woodsmen, and had actually killed three of them and then stolen meat from their winter stores. Luciana brought her soldiers with minimal complaint by boat to the Howling Fjord on a secondary mission to clear out some of the vrykul that had taken to harrying Alliance forces. 113th fought their way through the Fjord, carving a bloody path through the human-like giants, and when they reached Amberpine it was to a warm welcome and ample mead. Luciana gave them a day to recuperate, and started regular patrols around the lodge.

Stags and bears were taken to replenish food stores. Horde forces were sighted but they did not attack and so Luciana could have her troops focus on the Wolfcult. With enough overwhelming victories they could drive them back to their bases and away from good Alliance folk. Luciana stood in on the funeral rites for the fallen Woodsmen, who were a gathering of hunters and trappers skilled in the Grizzly Hill’s particular brand of hunt. They were placed in well-built pyres and burned with incense and pine, the wood first soaked with ale and lit with a tossed torch.

For another five weeks, Luciana and her soldiers fought worgen and wildlife. The last two weeks were also spend fending off probing Horde forces with vicious retaliation to make them back off quickly. Horde adventurers still stalked the area. While she stood guard with Kain while Lars used an outhouse in the middle of the night after eating a bucket of hot peppers to win a bet, they encountered a group of three. Three orcs - one a shaman, one a hunter, and the smaller one a warrior - seemed to be frozen in place. Not a good thing, as they were just inside of Amberpine’s borders. But, the warrior raised his hand in a hesitant wave and Luciana raised hers. She thought, _leave and we won’t chase._

“Naarkhan!” the orc called. Luciana recognized the word. Vic had told her it translated to ‘jaw with a scar’ or, as she said, Scarjaw. She gave a little wave to acknowledge it, and the orcs moved on, vanishing into the forest.

“That was interesting,” Kain said. “You’d think they’d also recognize you as the future Princess of Stormwind and try to get you out of the way.”

“Apparently my reputation as a warrior is more noteworthy,” Luciana said dryly.

“I hate myself,” Lars moaned from inside the outhouse. “Why did you let me do this.”

“We didn’t,” Luciana said. “I told you not to. You did it anyway.”

“I hate myself.”

She shared a tired laugh with Kain. “Hey,” the man asked. “You ever name that fancy ass sword of yours?”

“Yes,” she responded, resting a hand on said sword’s pommel. Her palm folded over the familiar shape of a wolf’s head. “Oathkeeper.”

“Sounds ominous,” Kain said. “You swear to kill someone?”

“No,” she said quietly. “Quite the opposite, actually.”

He looked at her closely. “Swear to... defend someone? No?”

“Closer.”

“Swear to... Aw, just tell me,” he said impatiently.

“I swore to return,” she said. “I swore I would always return home to him.”

“To h... to the Prince?” he asked in a hushed voice. “You’re sweet on him, eh?”

“Yes,” she said bluntly. “This is one of those things you should definitely not talk about. For one thing, it might get either of us killed.”

“Alright, I won’t.” His eyes were twinkling with amusement and while he was clearly tempted to pursue it despite her warning, Lars interrupted with another moan.

“I hate you all,” came his plaintive cry that resulted only in Kain cackling like a harpy.

When they returned to Valiance Keep, Luciana received several letters. Dania had written her three times in quick succession, excited about finally learning some portal spells. Now, she could visit Stormwind any day she had to spare. Her father and aunt both wrote her about the proceedings. Her father was proud of her for refusing the promotion for the reasons she’s written him, while her aunt was more concerned with making sure the confirmation was done properly. She needed Luciana’s opinions on several matters, from food to guests, and Luciana made sure to also write out her thanks for her aunt’s continued help and support. 

Her brothers wrote her as well, and Bannister’s letter mentioned that the boxer terriers Penny had sired were aptly named, intelligent, and downright cunning dogs. He had one picked out for Luciana for when she returned in September. Desmond wrote that they would house any members of her squadron that needed it during their leave for her confirmation.

Anduin had written her as well, but under a pseudonym. ‘Michael’ wrote that he missed her and hoped she was well, and that he would be glad to see her again. He also spoke briefly on the proceedings regarding the nuptials and some particularly stubborn nobles. All in code, of course. Varian had a small note at the bottom of the letter reminding her to eat well. It was a nice gesture and she appreciated it. She responded to all her letters, and sent them out with the morning ship.

Luciana accepted several more assignments and handed them down. Oaken was sent back to Farshire to aid in clearing cave spiders out of the mines. Grayson and Plains were sent to Fizzcrank Airstrip to clear a gorloc occupation from their border, gather oil and other natural resources from the hot springs, and generally help the upkeep. The gnomes were brilliant but sometimes overly optimistic in their ambitions. Thankfully, they had allies who were able and willing to help. Amadeus stayed in Valiance for a predicted Horde assault, and true to the calculations of numerous tacticians, it came while most of the 113th were away.

When Luciana joined the battle with a bellowing war cry, immediately bolstering the soldiers already fighting, the Horde reacted. Cries of “Naarkhan!” rent the air as surely as her sword rent flesh.

“What is that they’re calling you?” a Valiance marksman yelled over the sound of cannons firing.

“Scarjaw!” she responded, and with a grunt tore an axe from her own shoulder and used it to behead a troll. “Orcish!”

“Nice name!” the dwarf called, then lined up his sights and took down a tauren that was getting ready to charge.

“Nice aim!” she shot back.

The fight kept on for a full day and several hours into the night. Whatever wildlife had approached the Keep during the peace had scattered at the screams and shed blood. When Luciana, wounded and bleeding, was struck down, her soldiers filled the gap and covered her until Enaeon could get her back on her feet. Again, cries of Naarkhan filled the air, and when she roared and lashed out, any Horde forces that saw her furious visage immediately found a new target on the other side of the field. Soon, they were retreating, and Luciana was sorely tempted to pursue. Her exhaustion caught up with her the moment the fight was ending, and Enaeon supported her weight until they were safely inside the Keep’s protective walls. 

Thankfully, she hadn’t lost any of her soldiers. The Horde force had attacked in the early morning, but she was out on patrol with half of her squadron and Jillian was a fast runner on four legs. With ample warning, Valiance Keep had mustered a sizeable force to repel the attack, and they were thankful for it.


	27. The Start of Something

By the time Luciana received orders to return to Arathi, she was glad for it. The time spent in Northrend had been productive and she had learned a good amount about the land and her own Company’s various members. But she was eager to return to her garrison, and it was already late August. She would barely have time to get to Stormwind for the confirmation. As it stood they’d only have a couple of days to reorganize in the Arathi garrison before Amadeus squadron took ship to the city.

The ride back to Arathi wasn’t quite as rough as their first voyage. The ship could be steered around the worst of the storms. But, as a result, it took an extra four days. They spent a day in the garrison, giving poor Jillian just enough time to recover from nausea, and that night they were packed into a ship. The rest of the 113th was left under the command of newly-appointed Knight Captain Rivers, with whom Luciana was a little familiar with. Rivers had a reputation and was reportedly strict, but fair.

Luciana took names of anyone who needed to stay in the manor in order to be presentable for the confirmation. Enaeon would stay in the Cathedral itself, as being a paladin he would be welcomed there. Kain had family in Stormwind, as did Vic, and Daniel had a friend he would be housing with. Lawrence, Lars, Christopher, and Jillian would all be staying in the Amadeus family manor.

Luciana would be staying in the Keep until the fasting was to begin. As future Queen, she couldn’t stay with her family for multiple reasons. One that no one seemed to think of was that her family was a noble House, and she couldn’t show them favouritism. She could invite her direct relatives them to family gatherings, but to actually live as the Prince’s betrothed in another noble family’s home would insult others and cause no end of strife. It was best to simply stay in the Keep, where she would also be safe from would-be assassins and opportunists.

Amadeus squadron had a short, rough ride, and on the morning of the 17th of September, they were greeted at the docks with an enthusiastic crowd, an honour guard, and horses. There was a lot of noise, as well, and Jillian’s ears were flat against her skull as they mounted. They were immediately surrounded by city guards and their horses followed along without prompt. There was no ceremony to their return, and the excitement would likely be transferred to the actual celebration.

“Your Highness,” greeted a courtier Luciana recognized as a member of the Marina house. “You and your soldiers will have two hours to bathe and prepare. The celebrations will begin with a short speech by the King at one in the afternoon, and there will be feasting and entertainment. You are asked to sit with the King and Prince during the festivities, though you should be able to bring one or two family members to sit with you.”

“Thank you,” Luciana said briefly. The courtier brought his horse close to hers and leaned in, smiling.

“The Prince eagerly awaits your return, Your Highness, and I must say that you two are quite the inspiration for our bards.”

That would please Anduin, she knew. He was a bit of a romantic. She offered a curt nod in acknowledgement of the courtier’s words.

The ramps up to the city were lined with people being kept back by guards. Luciana glanced back at the docks. Darnassian ships lined many of the boardwalks and a handful of them held Exodar standards. Pandaren ships floated peacefully next to them, as did several heavier, more utilitarian Gilnean boats.

Luciana was guided to a separate entrance to the Keep. The courtier went with her squadron while she was left with the city guards until four Royal Guards appeared to take over. The two groups exchanged salutes in silence and Luciana followed the Royal Guards, one of which she recognized as her regular door guard, into the Keep.

She expected servants and tailors to be waiting, but instead she was greeted with a quiet, warmly-lit antechamber and Varian. He smiled down at her, dismissed the guards with a wave, and pulled her into a tight hug. He was considerably taller and wider than her and for the first time since she was a child, she felt her age.

“It’s good to see you again, Luciana,” he said, pulling back to give her a once over. “Another facial scar, eh? Trying to compete?” he joked.

“I think I won, actually. Mine earned me a name. What did yours get?”

“Mm, I heard,” he said, folding her into his side with a heavy arm over her shoulders. It felt oddly secure. He turned them around to move further into the Royal Wing’s first floor. “Scarjaw. Good name to have with the Horde. The brutes will respect a name like that.”

She hummed in response, and her only warning was Varian’s cheeky grin and sudden step away from her. The door opened and Anduin swept her into an excited hug. “Luciana!” he crowed, not able to pick up her considerable weight but still able to move her.

“Anduin,” she sputtered, hesitantly laying her hands on his back. She glanced at Varian, but he seemed to approve, and she hugged Anduin properly. “It’s nice to see you, too,” she said. He gave her another squeeze before moving back. His smile was bright, happy.

“You didn’t leave yourself much time to prepare,” he said. “We thought you’d be here two days ago.”

“The icebreaker avoided the worst of the storms coming out of Northrend but it cost us time,” she responded. “We didn’t even get a full day’s rest at the garrison before getting packed into another boat. Jillian’s sensitive, all of our Gilnean scouts are. Poor girl suffered the whole way in.”

“Will she be alright?” Anduin asked, frowning.

“Yeah, give her a few hours and some stiff drinks. Enaeon will take care of her.” Luciana shrugged. “She’s a worgen. They’re a hardy bunch.”

Varian cleared his throat and Anduin stepped back, folding his hands behind his back and adopting a princely pose. Luciana did the same without questioning it, falling into parade rest and settling her face into a neutral, commanding expression.

A moment later, Lord Silverstone and Lady Marina entered the antechamber through the same door Anduin had used. “You were rather eager to rush in,” Lord Silverstone commented, slight out of breath. “You should not leave us behind so readily, my Prince.”

“My apologies,” Anduin said smoothly. “I merely wished to greet Luciana after her long voyage through the northern seas. As I understand it, the weather is perpetually stormy. I only wish to ensure she has regained her ground legs.”

Lord Silverstone’s smile more closely resembled a grimace. “Lady Knight,” he said, offering his hand to Luciana, palm up, to invite her to let him kiss her knuckles as he would any proper Lady. She took his hand and gave it a firm shake, smiling politely.

“Lord Silverstone,” she replied. Then she abruptly turned away to smile at the other courtier. “Lady Marina. A pleasure to see you again.”

“The pleasure is mine, Lady Knight,” she replied smoothly, offering her hand. Luciana bent over it to kiss her knuckles and Marina smiled coyly. “My Prince, you’ve found yourself quite a charmer.”

“I do try,” Luciana said, smiling crookedly. She distinctly remembered the first time she’d used it on Devon, when she’d first been assigned as their Knight. Normally impossible to embarrass, he’d blushed and stuttered through his own introduction, and that was how she’d found out just how flirtatious the expression could be. Lady Marina was a courtier, and not so easily charmed despite her sympathetic mask, but her smile did hold a curious edge to it. Luciana looked over at Silverstone, willing to play along to get things moving. “How long before it starts?” she asked.

“Two hours. You should have returned earlier,” Silverstone said disdainfully. “But we’ll make do. Come with me.”

She glanced over at Anduin, who offered his arm to Lady Marina and sent a careful, quick grimace of apology to Luciana. She wanted to at least spend a few minutes with him, but it seemed that the two courtiers were quite determined to see things through in a traditional manner. Neither of them would be left along for longer than it took to use the washroom until the confirmation was through.

Lord Silverstone remained silent until they reached the tailors, thankfully, though his reproachful glances were annoying. The head tailor was a thin middle-aged woman with quick fingers and a tight grey bun at the back of her head, and she was not tolerant of any nonsense. “We’ve not enough time to create some new for you, Lady Knight,” she said, bustling about the fitting room. “Take a quick shower, rinse off all that grime. You’re not touching any of my clothes unless you’re clean.”

Luciana obeyed without a word, scrubbing two weeks’ worth of sea salt and dust off her skin. She rinsed her hair well, toweled off, and was out after five minutes. “Good,” the head tailor nodded. “If you’re not familiar with me I am Lady Dechaine.”

“I am familiar with your designs,” Luciana said, standing on the stool in the center of the room. Silverstone, with the obvious goal of making her uncomfortable, let his eyes roam her nearly bare body. But Luciana was used to showering with thirty other people and wrestling in the mud wearing only a pair of short pants. She was not easily embarrassed and when Silverstone saw that, he scoffed quietly to himself and gazed around the room in boredom. “My sister Ophelia takes great inspiration from you.”

“Stand still,” Dechaine said, but her frown wasn’t quite as harsh. “You’ve quite the body on you, Lady Knight. Perfect for all manner of masculine clothes but not so much for dresses and skirts.”

“I prefer masculine clothes,” Luciana responded, lifting her arms at a poke from an assistant. Everything was measured, from the circumference of her neck to the width of her lower back. Then pants, undershirts, vests, cummerbunds, coats, socks, boots, gloves, hats, and a number of other apparel options were brought out.

“Military style?” Dechaine asked briskly.

“Yes.”

Black pants were held up to her buttocks for a moment before being thrown aside. Dechaine was getting into her rhythm and was soon a flurry of activity. “Too loose,” Luciana heard her snap. “She’s got a set of legs on her. Find me something tighter around the bottom. Wrong colour!”

The first thing to be chosen was a royal blue coat that fit perfectly at the shoulders, but needed to be tucked in at the waist. It was decorated with golden filigree and Dechaine had one seamstress start the arduous and long task of sewing in replicas of Luciana’s medals. They were not exact, but the colours of the ribbons would be lined up neatly high on the left breast. Dechaine chose a pair of tight leather pants the colour of burnished gold and lined up a stark white undershirt with three quarter sleeves. She handed it off to an assistant to embroider something decorative along the sides and lower back in a thread that appeared to be just a shade off from white and would be barely visible.

A pair of knee-high boots the same colour as the coat were fitted onto Luciana’s feet, and then another pair were tried that fit much better. The heel was an inch high, the foot of the boot was stiff, and it buttoned up the side with silver studs in the shape of wolf’s heads. The boots were polished and shined, and a pair of padded wool socks was set aside.  
Lord Silverstone was fiddling with odds and ends of sewing kits or clothing options. Every now and again he’d glance over, appearing completely bored. Luciana alternated watching him and the tailoring assistants.

“Hair? Dechaine snapped, and a young-looking man appeared at Luciana’s side.

“We’ll take care of that,” he said, gesturing to what looked like his twin. “And the makeup. Don’t worry. We can cover those scars,” he said to Luciana.

“No,” she said in a voice that brooked no argument. The man shrugged.

“It gives you an air of danger,” he said with a toothy smile. “I like it.”

The coat had a high, stiff collar, and any semblance of neck tie was completely forgone. It left her with an ensemble that comfortably resembled her parade uniform. Luciana stepped off the stool and followed the twins, whom she finally recognized as popular and very much in demand court stylists Hector and David Estrang.

“Any specifics?” David asked, playing with her hair. “Maybe a little cut?”

“We can go full on or just nude,” Hector said, holding up trays of powder.

“I trust that the two of you as professionals will be able to work something out,” she said. “Seeing as I am a Knight Lieutenant, and have spent the last three years in various battlefields, I wouldn’t know nearly enough to compete with you.”

“Nude,” David said.

“Simple cut,” Hector replied.

David set to work cutting her hair, snipping and shaping it and chattering all the while about the upcoming events. Then, they sent her with two handmaidens to be bathed. The two girls giggled over her shoulders and gave her arms experimental squeezes, and blushed when she smiled at them.

“It’s so romantic,” the dark skinned one gushed. “A warrior, off to battle, returning for her one true love.”

“A warrior and a healer!” the blonde one responded, dumping a bucket of the perfumed water over Luciana’s head. “So well matched. So strong.” She gave Luciana’s arm another squeeze and both handmaidens giggled.

Luciana learned a bit more about how the kingdom saw her betrothal. Most thought it was quite fitting, to give the priest Prince a warrior as his bride. Some saw her as barbaric, merely a pawn to be molded after the King’s own brutish tendencies and then leashed by the Prince as a weapon. Still others saw it as a power play on her part, to further some unseen plan in the Court. The majority, however, seemed to agree: her relationship with the Prince, while they were not yet married, was one full of romance and tension. Two young adults, not yet able to touch each other because of the Court’s own laws, one off to war for months at a time while the other was left to wonder if their betrothed would even return.

Luciana’s skin was raw when she left the bath and one handmaiden rubbed scented skin cream into every available inch while the other dried her short hair. Luciana managed to catch a glimpse of it in the foggy mirror. David had given her an undercut with a bit of a fade that left the rest of her dark hair piled on top of her head in loose waves. 

She didn’t mind the attention much, and let them have their way. Her body was a tool used chiefly to destroy, and she was not ashamed of it in the least. The two girls pinched at her muscles with every opportunity and her ears were still ringing with their giggles when she was shoved out of the bathroom naked. Lord Silverstone had been temporarily banished from the room so the tailors could dress Luciana in underclothes, pants, and boots.

Luciana was again shoved into the Estrang’ chair and the two brothers set on her like vultures over a caribou carcass. Hector brushed powders and applied creams to her face and neck, and wisely decided not to give her any eye makeup when she refused to close her eyes with a flat look. David styled her hair with product and a heated iron tool that looked like a rod cut in half and attached to hinges. She couldn’t get a good look at it, but they left her with smooth skin, her scars left free of powders, and silky soft hair that fell in graceful waves.

“I wish it was longer,” Hector sighed. “Ah well. Maybe next time we can use a wig?”

Luciana was not given time to respond and was instead brought back to the tailors. Dechaine had her assistants dress Luciana with care to her newly styled hair. The shirt was blessedly soft on her skin, and even the bra they gave her was a stretch band that would simply hold her breasts flat under her shirt.

The coat was well-fitted, but sent out for final tweaks and small touches. Lord Silverstone reappeared while Luciana was standing with her arms out so Dechaine could inspect the final product.

“Not as decorative as a dress, but you’re a Knight. It wouldn’t fit you proper like this does.”

“I do appreciate the concession to my preferred style of dress,” she said with a nod. Dechaine pursed her lips in a semblance of a smile.

“It’s good enough,” she sighed.

The coat only took a few minutes with three people working on it, and when Luciana was dressed fully, the coat buttoned up to her chin, she stood straight and allowed the tailors to appreciate their own work for a moment. A seven foot mirror was wheeled up for her to see herself, and she nodded in appreciation, straightening her coat.

A golden sash that matched her pants was slung over her right shoulder, her sword was belted to her waist, and delicate golden ear cuffs with sapphires and yellow jewels adorned her ears. Her right hand was given two rings, on her first finger a lion’s head and her ring finger a wolf’s head. Her left hand was given four plain golden bands, and around her neck was strung a simple gold chain with a pendant of the Stormwind lion that hung just above the sash.

“Perfect,” Dechaine said. Her jeweller stood next to her, a short balding man with six earrings in each ear. David and Hector took the time to marvel at Luciana as well, and she fell in parade rest.

“Oh my,” David said, smiling wickedly. “Wait until the Prince sees you do that! Look at the shoulders on that girl!” he said, stage-whispering to Hector.

“And those legs!” Hector responded. Luciana felt a small smile pull at her lips at their obvious attempt at making her blush. They seemed almost disappointed when she only responded with a neutral smile.

“Are we done here?” Lord Silverstone interrupted loudly. “There’s only twenty minutes to get her to the King for approval.”

“Yes, yes,” Dechaine said, waving her away. “Next time, come home earlier. We’ll get you fixed up like a future Queen should be.”

“I will do my best, Lady Dechaine,” Luciana said, giving the assembly a shallow bow. “I appreciate the hard work that you have all given.”

She followed Lord Silverstone through the Keep to the Grand Hall, which had been outfitted for a great feast. There were three long tables each with over one hundred seats, and at the heads were carved wooden chairs that resembled thrones - except that the middle table actually had a throne. It was, Luciana knew, where Varian would sit. The King himself was standing off to the side, discussing something with a pair of Royal Guards. When he saw Luciana approaching he waved them off with a final few words she didn’t catch.

“Luciana,” Varian greeted, holding his hands out to the sides. “Look at you! You clean up nice.”

“No small thanks to Lady Dechaine and the Estrang brothers,” she responded. “Your doing?”

“Of course.” Varian grinned at her, and handed over a blue cap that matched her coat. It was almost an exact replica of an Imperial Armed Forces parade cap, save for the colour and the golden ribbon around its base. “You look good,” Varian said, smiling warmly as she carefully placed the cap on her hair.

“Thank you. When will we begin?”

“You’ll be sitting over at the southern table,” he said, gesturing. “In the fancy chair. Anduin will be at the north, I’ll be in the center. For now, go and stand over there. It’ll only be a few minutes before Anduin gets here, and then the guests will be allowed in.”

“Alright.” She nodded once. While cutting her hair, David had given her a basic rundown of how things would proceed. Luciana went to the indicated spot where a plain wooden stool waited for her. A servant stood next to it, a serene expression on his face.

“Your Highness,” he greeted, bowing low. She nodded in greeting when he straightened, and sat on the stool to wait. “I have orders to take it in hand when the guests arrive,” he said.

“I know,” she responded. “I’m just taking a moment. The ship here wasn’t easy and I haven’t any chance to rest since.”

“I understand.” He bowed his head for a moment in acquiescence. 

The northern entrance to the Grand Hall opened and Anduin strode in, confidently approaching his father. Varian greeted him much the same way he greeted Luciana, but added a note of familiarity and love when he put heavy, comforting hands on Anduin’s shoulders and gave him a short kiss on the top of his head. Once again, Luciana had the chance to see just how tall Varian actually was. Anduin was about six feet and two inches, but Varian was almost a full head taller. She wondered sometimes how he avoided back pains.

Anduin, she saw, was dressed as a Prince should be in silver and blue. It was similar to his regular court outfit, but there was an added length to his blue tunic that made it appear as though he were wearing a priest’s robes. 

A silver Stormwind lion was proudly emblazoned on the chest, uninterrupted by any sash or belt. Instead the tunic was cinched around his waist with silver buttons. Silver lined the edges of the skirts, which were split up both sides, to reveal blue leggings underneath and silver-white leather boots. His cloth pauldrons were decorated with silver tassels that dangled with silver beads. His tunic had a v-neck cut that revealed a silver-white undershirt with a collar that was left slightly open, exposing his soft throat. Luciana could not see if he had a necklace but she did see the thick silver cuffs on both wrists and the six matching silver bands on his fore, middle, and ring fingers. Thin silver chains traveled the length of his upper back and chest between the pauldrons and the edges of his collar. His hair was styled into golden waves that dropped down slightly to frame his blue eyes, bright against his dark brown skin. When he looked over and saw Luciana, he smiled.

Lady Marina came to stand behind him, and Luciana faced forward just as Lord Silverstone rejoined her. “The Prince looks nice,” he commented off-handed.

“He is dressed appropriately as the Prince,” Luciana responded.

“Mm. Odd choice with the dress. You’d think they’d give that to the woman.”

“The Prince is a priest of the Holy Light and wears a robe as any other would.”

“Still think they should have put you in a dress,” Lord Silverstone said snidely, and Luciana sighed quietly. It would be a long, long day. “You’re the woman, not him.”

“I prefer to dress as I do, Lord Silverstone, as I am a Knight and have earned the right to dress as I please.”

That bit at him. Luciana knew that Lord Silverstone was a failed Knight who had abandoned the position after only half a tour in the field. He knew it too and his temple jumped as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. “Still,” he said, recovering quickly. “Giving the poor Prince a dress is a bit insulting. Dress him as a man, don’t give him women’s clothing.”

“I’m sure the Prince also has the right to dress as he pleases, whether it be in a shirt and pants or in a dress,” Luciana said lightly, thinking on how she could illustrate her point. “There’s not much merit in assigning gender to pieces of clothing. Unless you were trying to insult the Prince by calling him a woman? I don’t think I need to illustrate how bad an idea it would be to insult the Prince.”

“Of course not,” Lord Silverstone scoffed. “What kind of idiot do you take me for? One that dresses femininely?” He was leading her perfectly into her point, and she smiled. It was not a friendly expression.

 _A massive, absolute idiot._ “Of course, Lord. But then, why would you attempt to shame the Prince’s choices? It’s not insulting to give him a dress if he wishes to wear it. It’s certainly not insulting to give him the clothing she wishes to wear. After all, calling someone a woman is not insulting.” She looked at him, a certain tilt to her chin, a slight sneer in the corner of her mouth, a crinkle of the bridge of her nose. He looked away for a moment. "And anyway, trying to insult someone by calling them feminine, of all things, is hardly an insult either. The female body is stronger, as we all know." She looked away, making it clear that he wasn't worth her time, and the only reason she was giving it to him was because she had nothing better on which to spend it.

Lord Silverstone sneered down at her at that. “And you think you can prove that?” he demanded. It was not exactly a fact, but most would readily concede the point that female-aligned bodies tended to be much more resilient and resistant than male-aligned bodies. It was often a subject of debate between Kain and Lawrence, as Kain's body was female and Lawrence made no secret of his jealousy of Kain's higher pain threshold.

“If you wish to duel me I would be more than happy to demonstrate,” she said smoothly, not bothering to look at him, and his jaw clenched with the sound of teeth clacking. He did not speak again for fear of inciting a formal challenge he knew he would lose and Luciana relaxed for only a minute before the servant moved as though to take the stool. She stood smoothly without a word, offering him a nod.

It was starting.


	28. Confirmation

The doors opened moments after Luciana’s stool was taken away, and the Greymane family was the first to enter. “His Royal Majesty, King of Gilneas, Lord Greymane, Her Majesty, Queen of Gilneas, Lady Mia, and Her Highness Princess Tess,” the Seneschal announced, and Luciana fell into parade rest. From her peripheral she saw Anduin stand with his hands clasped in front of him, a calm smile firmly in place. She chose a firm, neutral expression as she regarded the incoming masses. The King went to sit at Varian’s table at the seat directly to his right, while the Queen went to do the same at Anduin’s table and the Princess went to Luciana’s. 

“Lord Bertrand Amadeus, Marquess of Western Elwynn, Lady Mannarie Amadeus, Marchioness of Western Elwynn, Lady Talia Amadeus, Lords Desmond and Bannister Amadeus!” the Seneschal announced. They also split up, sending Bertrand and Bannister to Varian’s table, Mannarie and Desmond to Anduin’s, and Talia to Luciana’s. Luciana wished, briefly, that Ophelia was there - but she was sick, currently quarantined in the family manor.

After the guests that represented family came foreign envoys. “From Darnassus, we receive envoys of Tyrande Whisperwind and Malfurion Stormrage!” The kaldorei did not have formal titles in the same fashion as humans did, and so the envoys were not announced by name but instead by position. Sentinels, druids, and priestesses were split evenly between the three tables, after which came the draenei who had taken ship with the night elves.

“From the Exodar we receive envoys of the Prophet Velen!” Paladins, priests, and mages split themselves into mixed groups and joined the night elves along the tables in silence.

“From Ironforge we receive envoys of the Three Hammers! Lords Blackbeard and Thangred of the Bronzebeards, Lady Madsen and Lord Skyfall of the Wildhammer, and Lady Gyldenard and Lord Stellmad of the Dark Iron!” They split up with some dark words between them, sending a volatile mix to each table that Luciana hoped would not result in high tensions. But, she knew it likely would. The three clans had some bad blood between them, less so between Bronzebeard and Wildhammer.

“From Gnomeregan, we receive envoys of the High Tinker and his court!” Various types of mechanostriders came with the gnomes, who were generally a cheery and energetic lot. The striders took the places that were empty of chairs and settled down, mostly, into forms that would allow the gnomes to eat with everyone else.

“Of Pandaria, we receive members of the Tushui pandaren!” Mostly monks, they assembled into three groups just inside the door, clasped their hands and bowed to their respective tables, and then moved in to sit at assigned seats. Each race was not put with their own envoys but rather interspersed with whatever nobles and guests of honour that would be filling the seats in between.

“From the city-state of Dalaran, we receive envoys of the Kirin Tor!” The Seneschal gestured grandly and mages teleported in with expert precision. With shallow bows, they handed off their staffs to guards as no weapons were allowed in the Hall save for Luciana and Varian’s blades, which were considered more ceremonial than functional - though Luciana knew just how functional her longsword was, and looking at Shalamayne she could only imagine the damage it could do. Whatever trouble might come, Royal Guards lined the entire Hall and the outside of the Keep in high numbers, and some of the guests of honour were Alliance heroes of differing wars. Some came from the era of the Outlands, while others might have earned titles during the Cataclysm.

“Of the Stormwind Imperial Armed Forces, of the Gilnean Royal Hunters, and of the Triage, we receive Amadeus Squadron, of Lady Knight Luciana Amadeus!” Luciana watched with pride as her squadron moved into the hall in circular formation, with Enaeon and Jillian in the center. It resembled a healer circle, a well-known manoeuvre that was quickly spreading throughout the entire First Legion. It had first been used by Leon Servol, then Knight Lieutenant of their own 113th Company and now a Knight Champion. Enaeon went to sit at Anduin’s table while Jillian headed to Luciana’s. The soldiers split themselves up accordingly; Daniel went to Luciana’s, while Kain was joined by Lars and Lawrence at the center table. Victoria and Christopher went to Anduin’s table to sit near Enaeon, who was speaking in low tones with another draenei who was sitting two seats down.

The Seneschal began to announce various nobles and heroes. “And, of the Glory Seekers guild,” he started, and his voice shook slightly. “Banelix and Syllwing Frostbreath, Tessbara of the Wildhammer, Matriae of the Ebon Blade, Grand High Warlock Scaril Soulfire, and... Damran the Red.”

The entire hall fell silent to witness their entrance. Damran was a monster, known to the entire kingdom. The entire world, in reality. They were known for their great brutality, power, and unrepentant cruelty. Luciana glanced over to Varian, who seemed largely unconcerned, and forced herself to appear perfectly calm. Anduin also seemed mostly unaffected, even going so far as to smile calmly and nod to Damran in greeting, and the announcements proceeded after only a slight hitch.

Finally, the hall was full, and the dull roar of everyone’s combined murmurs fell when the Seneschal announced one more envoy.

“Sent in times of tentative peace after a greater threat was vanquished with combined might,” the Seneschal called out, reading from a scroll held up theatrically. “An envoy from the Horde, comprised of individuals of goblin, pandaren, and blood elf persuasion. Heroes of the Horde who remember well the aid sent to them in times of need by the Alliance, and ranked members of their respective courts.”

The Grand hall was nearly silent, and glances were thrown to Varian, Anduin, and Luciana, and then between everyone else as nine Horde strode slowly through the door. Three of each race, dressed in civilian clothes without anything even mildly resembling a weapon on their persons. Varian stood from his decorated seat, and held his hands out to Anduin and Luciana. First, he spoke to Anduin. “Prince Anduin,” he said, and his voice echoed through the hall and caused absolute shocked silence to fall. He was well known for his hatred of the Horde. Why, then, was he welcoming nine of its members into his Keep? More importantly, how could Luciana, who spent her time fighting the Horde, welcome them? “In your confirmation, do you welcome these guests?”

“I welcome them,” Anduin’s clear voice rang out.

“Lady Knight Luciana,” Varian said, turning to her. “In your confirmation, do you welcome these guests?”

She took only a half-second to analyze them, and looked over to Varian as Anduin had. “I welcome them,” she responded, and her deep voice resonated through the hall. Because Anduin had agreed to host them, she would as well, though she wanted nothing more than to snarl a dismissal. She'd spent the last few years killing Horde, and now she was to welcome them into her confirmation as honoured guests. They'd scarred her, and she'd slain them, and there was a chance that they'd been involved in the death of her brother. But, Anduin had given his assent, and Varian had obviously had a hand in their arrival. She would not refuse them if Anduin could accept them at his table.

“Envoys of the Horde,” Varian said, looking down to them with a hard gaze. “You are here as guests of honour in the confirmation of betrothal between Prince Anduin and Lady Knight Luciana. You will behave with the utmost respect, for while our peoples have found a temporary peace, that peace is easily broken. Carry yourselves carefully in my city,” he warned. Unnecessarily, for the Horde were very clearly aware of where they stood. Surrounded, by Royal Guards of the highest calibre and noted heroes of the Alliance.

One pandaren stepped forward slightly as spokesperson. A wise choice as the pandaren, whether Horde or Alliance, were known to be level-headed and relatively peaceful. “We are honoured by this acceptance,” he said in accented Common. “We swore at the gates to your mighty city to behave with honour and respect, and we will keep our vows for the entire duration of our stay.” He bowed shortly in pandaren style. “Warchief Vol’jin sends well-wishes and his regards to the wise Prince, and to the mighty warrior known to us by the name Scarjaw.”

There was a murmur of outrage that started to rise, but with a quick glance to Varian for approval, Luciana spoke. “I am honoured by this name, pandaren, for I know it is bestowed upon me with respect for my martial prowess.” This mostly silenced the whispers. She knew that not everyone was pleased that the Prince was going to have such a war-like Princess when there were proper Ladies raised for the court to choose from. She would work to silence those whispers before they could concern him. It was her duty, now.

The Seneschal split them up expertly, one of each race for each table, sitting between heroes and a good distance away from the heads of the tables. At the far ends of each table stood a Royal Guard in golden ceremonial armour with sword unsheathed, tip resting on the floor. They stood unwavering, watchful, and ready to act. That honour had been bestowed on three of the longest-serving Guards, handpicked by the Captain of the Guard for their loyalty and capabilities.

Luciana saw Varian move down from the wide dais, and a moment later Anduin followed suit. She moved in sync with Anduin to the table, sat, and let a Royal Guard push her chair in slightly.

“Your Highness,” Princess Tess greeted with a cheeky smile.

“Princess,” Luciana greeted. It quickly became obvious that Tess was highly intelligent and had quite a sense of humour, not that Luciana hadn't seen it before. The two bantered and Tess’ wit bit at Luciana more than once, all taken in stride. Luciana wondered to herself why Varian would not marry Anduin to Tess to cement the alliance between the two human nations. It was possible he wanted to avoid favouring one ally over the others, and marrying the two kingdoms together would create a sizeable amount of tension, especially considering that neither had more than one viable heir after so long at war. She set the thought aside for later, private, discussion.

Food was soon brought out after a short speech by one of Varian’s courtiers that gave a quick history of Stormwind, a summary of recent events, and then well-wishes to the betrothed couple. The Horde guests were watched carefully, and Luciana was glad that whoever had sent them had thought to exclude orcs and Forsaken. Neither would be taken well. Tauren would be too large to fit in their chairs, generous as they were, though the tauren were a mostly peaceful lot. Luciana watched as the pandaren quickly gained favour, as they were really quite similar to the Tushui and the ones at Varian’s table seemed to be old friends.

The goblins were more familiar to the people in the hall, as goblins were opportunistic and could be found wherever there was gold to be made. The blood elves remained silent and watchful, but were smart and polite enough to get by despite the glares. Luciana kept an eye on her squadron, and could clearly see the disapproval in Enaeon's agitated tail. Still, she knew they'd all give her reason to be proud of them, yet again.

There was a lot of food, as Luciana had been promised months ago, and she set upon it with a steady, ravenous pace. Tess cracked a joke about her having four stomachs and she wistfully said she wished she had six, as the grilled meats were absolutely delicious and buttery in the mouth.

Luciana had a bit of wine with each toast, of which there were several, but drank mostly water or warmed apple cider. It was lauded as the King’s favourite, and Luciana could easily taste why. Six courses were brought out, servants with trays of steaming food swarming the tables in controlled chaos reminiscent of a beehive. Luciana could hardly glance over at the other tables, but saw enough to know that Varian was pointedly ignoring the Horde guests by speaking mainly with Genn and Bertrand. However, allowing the Horde guests in the city at all had been a huge concession, and being ignored was really to be expected. They were likely listening for any information that could aid the Horde, but they wouldn’t learn anything that their regular spies couldn’t. Allowing them in would also give opportunity to show that the Alliance could be cooperative to those willing to act in peace. Likely it had been Anduin to push for acceptance of the envoys.

After the food was cleared, more speeches were made. Talia made one on Bertrand’s behalf, as she had been the one to speak in the arrangements for the House. She spoke of Luciana’s gift as a warrior that had manifested as an early age, of her determination to excel in the Military Academy, and of her gifts of astute intelligence and caring heart. She briefly mentioned Frederic, how proud he would be of his sister, and quickly moved on to speak of how Luciana honoured the House with her continued efforts to honour its name. Then, she congratulated the betrothed couple, and made wishes for many happy years for them and prosperity for the kingdom from their union. “They are well matched to each other, and will compliment the other’s abilities both in and out of the Court,” she mentioned, giving nods to their positions as a healer and a warrior.

Next, Genn stood in place for Anduin’s family as Varian was the only other Wrynn still alive, and he was seated at the head of a table and so he could not speak for their House. Genn spoke of the long-standing friendship between the two human kingdoms, interrupted only briefly by desperation brought on through war. He moved on to speak of their current alliance, and the hope he held for the future of the Alliance as a whole. “We all know of the Prince’s good heart and capabilities as a healer,” Genn said. “His love for his people and their allies will deliver us to better days with the Lady Knight at his side, championing their cause. I know that when put together, these two young and brilliant people will see the Alliance to victory on and off the battlefield.” He also mentioned how honoured he was to speak for the Wrynn family, made sure everyone was aware that it meant he was a valued friend, and offered congratulations from the whole of Gilneas to the betrothed couple. He stepped down to be replaced by a courtier Luciana did not recognize by face, and several others spoke before bards entered the hall and started to play lively dancing music.

Luciana saw the Horde guests wisely confer in two separate corners of the Hall, well in sight of Royal Guards. They knew they were being watched and found it wise to show deference to that. She resolved not to think on them further - she could remember too easily the orcish axes that had taken blood from her, from her soldiers, and Devon from her side.

Luciana was pulled into a dance by Tess first, where she took the lead and Tess followed smoothly. Then she danced briefly with Varian, and then her aunt, and then her brothers in quick succession, and then Genn stole her for a dance. Then Enaeon found her with a wide smile and took the lead by virtue of his height, and then Luciana danced with the Lady Gyldenard of the Dark Iron, and Lord Thangred of the Bronzebeard, and then a male night elf silently offered a dance. 

Luciana danced until she felt tense and buzzing with anxious energy, almost ready to snap at the next person who touched her. She hid it with practiced professionalism, though she was frustrated that she could not even see Anduin. She did see Varian a few times, dancing with various Ladies and members of envoys and at one point competing for lead with Genn with humour and joking insults about his abilities to dance while drunk.

The music slowly slid into calmer waters and everyone was reseated while the bards played quietly. More food was brought out, and Luciana ate as much as she could, which was truly a considerable amount. If she couldn’t eat for two days, she’d suffer. Her metabolism would burn through what she’d eaten by the second night, and she hoped she could at least doze through it - _Oh. I forgot I’ll be alone. No dog, either._ She cursed silently to herself, resisting the scowl that threatened to break out. She had been looking forward to seeing Anduin again for the last month and a half. Every night she had difficulty sleeping, she remembered holding Anduin and feeling restful for the first time in a long time.

She held back an exhausted sigh when the music started again, but thankfully there was only time for a few dances before the doors to the Golden Hall were opened. The Horde guests were herded through first, surrounded by guards. None looked too bitter about that, as they were still alive in the heart of Alliance territory while surrounded by enemies. 

The Golden Hall was full of smaller, round tables and chairs that were interspersed throughout. Soon, the grand clock in the eastern wall chimed that it was seven o’clock, and the Seneschal walked onto the raised dais to speak. The hall fell into a hush.

“Now, at one hour before sunset, the betrothed will meet for a dance before the confirmation begins. They will each be led separately to the Cathedral, where they will ensconce themselves in privacy and silence for two days and three nights. They will fast for this time, without food, water, or company. They will think on their betrothal, on each other, on their future marriage and the bond it will create between their kin and kith. They will think on their new roles, their future roles, and their future together. And then, on the third morning, they will break their fast with their families and their betrothal will become their engagement, unbreakable save for the most dire of circumstances.”

The Seneschal gestured for the Prince and for the Lady Knight to emerge from the silent gathering, and Luciana’s chest felt tight when she joined Anduin in front of them. They stood opposite each other for a moment in complete silence, and then the music started - a strong, stately song meant for a slow waltz. Anduin, though he was taller than Luciana, took the position of follow. With a smile that was held tightly to keep it small, he allowed her to take the lead, and they danced alone while the rest of the gathering watched intently.

Giving her the lead would be considered bold - follow was the more passive position, usually given to whoever was shorter or less experienced. By giving it to her so readily he was showing that he was willing to acquiesce to her despite being born Royal while she was marrying into it. It could be that he was recalling her command experience and naturally more aggressive disposition.

Luciana felt it helped to illustrate their match as healer and warrior. It was an old trope in literature and theatre to put the healer and the warrior together to show their differences, but also how well they complimented each other. Luciana felt it fit. And she felt the Light seep through his palms on her shoulder and in her hand, cooling her and comforting her. She gave him a soft smile in return and could only hope it offered the same comfort. She kept her hand loose on his waist, not holding him too tightly though she wished nothing more than to grip him close in a proper embrace. He had hugged her when she’d first seen him, but it had only lasted a moment and she wanted to feel him, his scent, his breath. He made her feel _good_ in a way she hadn't felt for a very long time.

The dance ended when the bards left off the end of the song and picked up a background tune instead. The Seneschal announced that they would now be guided to the Cathedral by Royal Guards and one member of their betrothed’s family. Varian was the only choice and Luciana was glad for his solid presence. Anduin was handed over to Chevalier Lord Bannister, eldest of Luciana’s siblings and the member of her family who was closest to her.

Anduin was brought out first, surrounded by guards. Luciana waited in silence with Varian, separated from the rest of the gathering by guards. After a short while she was brought outside, where she and Varian mounted and were boxed in by a dozen mounted Royal Guards. 

“Alright?” he asked her quietly. She nodded once, and they were off to the Cathedral at a brisk walk.

The Cathedral’s Hall of Lights was its main, and biggest, hall. During the day the light streamed through the great stained glass window over the altar and bathed the entire hall in a rainbow of light. It was beautiful even at night, and when the moon was full it was a colourful place. Royal Guards lined nearly every room in the Cathedral, as did armoured paladins - human and draenei, Luciana noted. An effort to solidify the alliance between Stormwind and the Exodar, by giving them the honour of guarding the future King and Queen while they fasted. There were also a fair number of kaldorei priestesses that wandered the halls. Some nodded to Luciana as she passed them.

Varian led her through the Cathedral to a lower level, and stopped her in front of a plain door. “This is where I leave you,” he murmured. Even the King was quieted in the presence of the Light, which could be felt strongly in any part of the Cathedral. “Will you be alright alone? Anduin told me of your nightmares. It’s more serious than you let on,” he said with a frown, chastising her gently for keeping it from him.

“I’ll be fine,” she soothed. “I can handle three nights. I’ve been handling it for years.”

“I know. You shouldn’t have to. I could get you a dog - medical concessions are allowed and battle fatigue is considered to fall under that.”

“I’ll be fine,” she repeated.

“If you’re sure. While you’re in there you should consider letting a shadow priest take a look.”

“I’ll consider it.” Priests healed the body and the soul, but shadow priests could peer into the mind and fix the parts that were cracked and broken. They could, with the cooperation of the patient, help to reorder the mind of one suffering from obsession, psychosis, or battle fatigue to make it easier to handle alone. The thought of having someone rummaging in her mind did not appeal to Luciana.

“You probably wanted to spend more than twenty seconds with Anduin,” Varian said. “I’m sorry about that. You’ll have time afterward. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Thank you.”

He considered her for a moment, wanting to say more. He pulled her into a hug, kissed the top of her head, and murmured into her hair. “In three days you’ll no longer be betrothed,” he said. “You’ll be engaged. There’s no turning back after that. If you die I will have you resurrected. If you hurt Anduin I will have you hunted. If you frighten him or give him reason to be frightened I will have you broken and remade. I’m not worried about those last two,” he said. “Love him, and let him love you. You will be his protector, his guardian, but he will be your guide and your hearth. _Let him_ be your friend.” He kissed her forehead, and let her go, leaving her in silence. A moment later, she opened the door and walked into the room. Someone shut and locked the door behind her, effectively trapping her.


	29. Three Nights

Luciana regretted not accepting the offer for a dog to be brought. She was suffering.

It was dark during the night, too quiet, and she felt anxious. Panicked. She would have had nightmares but she couldn’t fall asleep to begin with. She wanted Anduin.

Anduin was safe. Soft, giving, she could mold him to her body and rest. Pliant under her hands, asking for touch, for intimacy. She had thought herself weak. Now she thought herself starved.

Is that why she wanted him? For a warm body to hold at night? For the Light he cooled her skin with? No, she wanted more than that. She needed him.

She needed him. She was broken - that’s why she wanted him. Nothing else but her own selfishness. No, no. She shook her head. She wanted to make him happy - so he’d keep giving her peaceful nights.

“No,” she murmured. That wasn’t right. She liked seeing him smile. It made her chest feel tight. How long had it been since she’d smiled? Not that long. A couple of days? Was it already the second day? 

The last time she saw him he’d hugged her and she hadn’t really returned it. She regretted not clinging to him like she’d wanted to. She’d been shy because of Varian’s gaze but he had approved. Hadn’t he?

Nothing but peaceful nights. That was all she wanted him for. No. She wanted him for his soft voice, warm smile, understanding. He understood. What, beyond the nightmares? Everything. He was intelligent. Enough to keep up with her. How rare was that?

Safety and happiness. The things she'd give him - besides her body, her heart, everything she had, all of it was his - in return for those nights. Just a soft touch, a smile, and she'd protect him, make him happy. Serve him. That was her duty, wasn't it? Was that not what Varian had said?

She could be happy, too. His smile made her smile and he smiled when she did. She would find reason to be happy and she would provide for him.

He was welcoming, so soft. She wanted him over her, trembling, her hands running up his thighs. They would be smooth-skinned, no ruinous scars save what was left from the Bell, the hair soft and fine over dark skin. She’d run over his skin her hot, rough palms that he would love she knew he would moan, bend pliant under her hands and ask for more and she would. She would give. Anything. Everything.

Anduin was a beating heart under her palm, steadying breaths and caring, unsure eyes. He would reach out for her, and she’d kneel and offer her head. No. That wasn’t right.

She’d surrender. She would surrender to him and he would be soft, loving, lovely. Offer his heart. She would offer hers first. He liked when she reached out to him, lit up, banished some of the doubt from his eyes. His hands were full of Light. The Light was with him and he was with her, and she would follow that. He would handle her heart carefully. Her hands were full of scars but she’d scrub them clean and wrap them in silk for him.

Why? Why? Why did she want him, want to touch him? Why did she want him close at night? For peaceful sleep? For soft skin to touch? A soft smile, shame she didn’t like to see shame on his face. It didn’t belong there. How could he be ashamed of himself? He was so lovely, beautiful and soft. She would handle him like a rabbit, gentle. He would be safe with her.

There was no more reason to not. To not touch, to not kiss, to not love. She could not, was not capable of it. She did not. Couldn’t. But she would carve herself into a better shape like stone under dwarven hands. She would be his, would make him hers, would offer up her own scarred body broken mind self to him and she would take anything he would give her for it. Coppers or gold, it didn't matter. As long as it belonged to him.

She wished she had his pillow. Clean linen, something sweet and earthy, paper and ink. She could sleep, she thought, if she had that little piece of him. She could sleep if she could calm down. She hoped he was faring better than her. 

She was having a hard time breathing, sometimes. It ached in her chest to think of Anduin in her position. She hoped he ate enough to last the three nights. Her stomach was trying to eat her spine. She hoped he wasn’t thirsty. She’d already sweated out most of her water and her throat hurt. It wasn’t normal for a confirmation to hurt. It was supposed to be peaceful. But she had earned this pain. She'd done so much to earn it that she wondered if she should not ask for more nights. But only if they did not give more to him. She wondered if she could take nights from him, spare him the pain he hadn't earned.

She wanted to see him. He gave her so much, and she wanted to give it all back tenfold. It would make him happy, she knew, if she instigated it. If she reached a hand out for him, if she hugged him first. But she knew it also made him happy when he reached out and she took it. She’d seen it, that smile. She wanted to see it again.


	30. Nothing and Everything Has Changed

Luciana started when the door opened. She’d managed to calm down enough for an hour or two of rest, but she felt heavy and weak. Varian was standing in the doorway.  


“You look like shit,” he said quietly, closing the door behind him.

Luciana hummed, uncurling and pushing herself away from the wall. She tucked herself against it to have something solid at her back. Varian kneeled on the bed in front of her, reaching out and taking her hand gently. It was shaking.

“The fast was hard on you,” he murmured, pulling her up to a sitting position. “Come on. I have a change of clothes. Let’s get you washed up.”

He must have known it would be hard on her, because though she wasn’t allowed to eat or drink until the breakfast, he carried most of her weight and supported her while she dried and dressed in silence. “So?” he asked. The confirmation was to ensure that the betrothed parties truly wished to be married. The fast was meant to be a time of reflection, away from any worldly distractions. In the Cathedral, surrounded and soothed by the Light, couples would think on their choice of partner, on their future and their desires. Luciana looked up at him.

“I want to see Anduin,” she croaked.

Varian smiled down at her, wrapped her in a warm hug and she gladly ducked into his chest, feeling strengthened by his support. “Let’s get you to him, then,” Varian said. “After the breakfast, after some words from the High Priestess, I’ll set you two up in the Royal Wing. No one will bother you today. You’re supposed to be together after confirmation,” he said, guiding her out of the room with a heavy arm around her shoulders. “You’re not married, but you are engaged, and no one can say shit except for me or your parents. And they will not say shit,” he promised. Luciana offered a weak smile.

The Hall of Lights was full of guards, paladins, and priests, but they were against walls or pillars and the table that had been set up in the corner for the confirmation had enough space around it to be comfortable. Lord Pembrooke, Lady Marina, Lord Silverstone and Lord Marbrond were seated around one half of the table, while Bertrand, Talia, and Bannister had the other half. Anduin was waiting with two empty seats to either side of him.

“Those four were patrolling the halls every day and night,” Varian murmured on the way through the Hall of Lights. “To make sure you weren’t sneaking out to go sleep with Anduin. And I mean that in the dirty sense.”

She huffed a laugh. “No, I’m the one who tends to follow the rules. He’s the rebellious one.”

“Light, don’t I know it,” Varian groaned. He let her go to sit at Anduin’s left, leaving his other side open. Luciana sat quietly, nodding to her father.

High Priestess Laurena came over soon after, and put her hands on Anduin and Luciana’s shoulders. She smiled down at them warmly and Luciana felt the Light infuse her. It was different from Anduin’s Light. Less familiar. Anduin’s Light knew to cool her. Laurena’s Light was kind and motherly but tried to warm her. She still appreciated it.

She didn’t really hear Laurena’s short speech, but she picked up some phrases. “Love under the Light binds them”, “The kindness of a healer’s hands and the resolve of the warrior”, and then “Light bless you and keep you both”. Luciana looked around the table. Lord Pembrooke did seem to have eyes for her aunt, while Lady Marina seemed almost too kind to be a noble - a mask - and Lord Marbrond looked just attentive enough to qualify as a witness to events. Her father’s gaze showed concern for her tired state when he looked at her, but the shower and change of clothes had done her a service. The clothes she and Anduin wore now were much plainer, simple pants and shirts without decoration.

Food was brought to the table from the Cathedral kitchens. Humble fare, mostly comfort food that was perfect for a confirmation breakfast. Luciana started eating in silence, only nodding or shaking her head when asked a question. Anduin was engaged by Silverstone in conversation and Luciana rested her hand on his lower back. When he didn’t react visibly, she slid it to his side and under the edge of his shirt to rest on his bare skin. She felt a shiver down his back but his hand rested on her knee for a moment and she absently rubbed her thumb along his skin while she ate. Varian gave her a knowing look, accompanied by a smile, and she knew she’d made the right choice.

Lord Silverstone tried to talk to her, and Anduin warned him good-naturedly that she didn’t take well to having her breakfast interrupted. Lord Silverstone retorted with something sharp and decidedly not good-natured and she turned his gaze on him.

“I have not eaten in three days, Lord Silverstone,” she rasped lowly. “You should know better than to speak rudely to a hungry warrior.”

“I was speaking to a priest,” he said, almost smugly.

“You were speaking to my priest,” she corrected. “Rudely.”

Anduin bent down to whisper to her. One of his ears was visible, and was red at the tip. “It’s not necessary,” he murmured. “Or worth it. Just ignore him, eat.”

“I heard how he spoke to you,” she replied. Her voice was low and audible under the rest of the table’s conversation, which wisely kept going, though her words could not be distinguished. “I would kick him through a wall for such an insult.”

Anduin smiled at her, amused by the thought. “I’ll take care of it this time. Just eat.” He offered her a piece of fruit from his plate and she debated taking it with her fingers but let him feed it to her instead. He smiled again at that, and they returned to the table’s larger conversation. “I believe we have it well in hand, Lord,” Anduin said with a polite smile. “I know you are... unfamiliar with the ways of true warriors, so I think we can forgive the occasional misunderstanding. You see, a warrior’s body is strong, capable.” He looked as Silverstone as though he were inspecting him, still smiling politely, almost kindly. “They use their energy efficiently to keep their body ready to fight at a moment’s notice, for it is the way of a warrior to be ready for battle at all times. They must eat enough for their bodies to remain strong, else they risk losing all of their muscle mass.” 

Again, he inspected Lord Silverstone. The Lord was starting to realize what Anduin was saying with such a gaze. “Luciana is a warrior, Lord Silverstone, with a stronger body that requires an appropriate amount of fuel. Besides that, she is my engaged. If she wanted to slaughter and eat your horse, she could.” His smile was sharp now. “If she wanted to simply slaughter you for the insult you have shown her, well. You certainly couldn’t fight her off.”

Lord Silverstone felt silent when Luciana accompanied Anduin’s words with a glare that held more than a flicker of rage. She was hungry, Anduin was letting her touch him, and if someone got in the way of either of those things she would be very angry.

Lord Pembrooke took the opportunity to engage Anduin in conversation. It lasted several minutes and it seemed they were both enjoying it. Luciana overheard Lord Silverstone mutter something about ‘fucking barbarian’ and ‘Queen that’d drive us to ruin with her vulgarity’ and then ‘bet she’s going to rape him come the honeymoon.’

Luciana could have ignored the first two, but the third warranted death in her opinion. Varian, too, thought the third comment merited serious punishment, if the yellow glint of his eyes was anything to go by. Talia was staring at Lord Silverstone in shock, having also overheard the last comment, and Luciana stood slowly, staring at him.

“Either I kill you now and ruin the breakfast,” she said quietly. “Or we duel to the death for the insult you have paid me.”

He stared at her, obviously surprised. “What insult?” he demanded. “I offer no insult to you, Lady Knight. Your Highness,” he corrected in a falsely smooth voice. “You must be hearing things.”

She was tempted, sorely, badly, desperately tempted to throw the table to the side to clear the way to him. But Anduin’s hand was on the back of her thigh, and she smothered her fury, used it instead to think quickly. “If you truly think so little of me, Lord Silverstone,” she said. “Perhaps you’d like to suggest an alternate future wife?” She smiled at him, and it was not a kind expression. “Or perhaps you would like to act on the desires you have so obviously smothered, only to project them onto me. You see, as a warrior I have self-control. It is near impeccable. And I can choose when to let it go. You obviously were not taught to control yourself as a child. I will repeat. Either I kill you now and ruin the breakfast, or we duel to the death in a day’s time.”

He was trying to recover, trying to think of something. He was at an obvious disadvantage because she was now considered a Royal and he was surrounded by people who would completely favour her, for various reasons.

“I’ll offer a third option,” Varian said lowly. “Get on your knees and beg forgiveness from my daughter in law. I heard the insult you paid to her and if she doesn’t kill you I will.”

“Don’t think too hard,” Luciana said, mockingly sweet. “There’s no way out of the hole you dug yourself.”

Lord Silverstone silently got to his feet, and kneeled on the ground. “Grovel,” Varian ordered. No one voiced that they doubted the insult was that bad. To see the King so furious while seemingly calm was a frightening experience. Even Luciana could feel his rage, cold and unforgiving, through her own.

Lord Silverstone pressed his forehead to the ground, ever prideful. “Forgive me,” he started. “I beg you to forgive me, Your Highness.”

“Why?” Luciana said, looking down at him.

“I beg your forgiveness for my insult to you.”

“Why should I forgive you?” she asked.

“I beg of you. Please, forgive me.”

It wasn’t enough, and everyone at the table knew it. The guards knew it, too. With a glance to Varian for approval, Luciana walked around the table and picked up Lord Silverstone by the collar. He choked on his surprise when, seemingly without effort on her part, Luciana lifted him completely off the ground. Her hand was tight, her arm tensed and the muscles bulging. Scars popped and stood in relief and her shoulder rolled into a tight, powerful ball. “Beg,” she growled. “Until I am satisfied you’ve learned.” 

People would hear of her reaction to Silverstone. They would learn the strength of a berserker's body and underestimate the strength of her mind. They'd learn that she was to be feared, and tread carefully around her. It would be the beginnings of her Court, one where people would watch their tongues around her for fear of vicious and violent retaliation. She had a physicality that she would let no one forget. And, then, they'd be much more willing to deal peacefully with Anduin than to face her potential wrath.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, finally feeling the threat she posed. “Please forgive me. I’m sorry. I beg Your Highness’ forgiveness. Please!”

She let him continue for a few moments, and then abruptly and easily dropped him. He scuttled away and hit a guard’s unmoving armoured legs. The Royal Guard had heard his words, vigilant at his post, and had a look of disgust on his dark face.

Luciana retook her place at the table and Varian started up a conversation with Bertrand as though nothing unusual had occurred. Anduin’s hand rested on Luciana’s thigh, and then slowly rubbed down to her knee. Light tickled her skin in the path his hand left.

She finished the food in front of her and more was brought, and she ate that too. She returned her hand to Anduin’s hip, digging her fingers under the hem of his pants and flattening her hand against his bare skin. She ate until there was nothing left on her plate, and a third helping was brought. After that, she felt she ate enough, and made sure they wouldn’t bring her more that she didn’t need.

She spoke briefly with her father about her time in Northrend, accepted an invitation for tomorrow to come and meet the dog Bannister had picked out for her from the litter of boxer-terriers Penny had sired. It seemed that everyone present, including her own family, was willing to quickly move past the willful physical violence she’d displayed. People would learn of that, too - that violence was nothing to her, like rain pattering uselessly against a stone wall. Then, finally, Varian stood and excused the Royal Family and its new member. “We have some things to discuss,” he said. “Thank you all for your participation in their confirmation.”

“Just sent us invites to the wedding,” Bannister said with a grin. “When it is? Next week? I’m getting impatient!”

Luciana chuckled and that let Varian know it was meant as a familial, familiar joke. He smiled, promised to send invites soon, and guided Luciana and Anduin away from the table, to a side exit. Twelve guards broke off from the main group to follow them, encasing them in a wall of moving metal and blue tabards.

They took horses to the Keep, taking back roads to avoid crowds. The citizens they did pass bowed or called out good mornings. Luciana waved to a few, but didn’t have any energy to spare until the food was digested, and let her horse follow along with the others.

The Royal Wing was blessedly silent, and empty. Varian left the guards behind with a wave, and once the three of them were in Varian’s study, he flopped down onto the well-cushioned sofa. “Well, that’s over,” he groaned. “While I’m sure you two didn’t have the best of times I wasn’t able to sleep a wink. Always one thing or another. And I’m glad Silverstone was finally dealt with. I was tempted to wring his neck at least twice an hour.”

“What did he say that was so bad?” he asked, looking between Varian and Luciana. “And how did you hear it?” he asked, more specifically to her.

“I was listening,” she responded, pointing at her mouth. “Also reading his lips.”

“Oh.” Learning a new thing about her, Anduin regarded her as though in a new light. "I didn't know you could do that."

"It's a handy skill," she replied. "I think you'll learn a lot more about me." That brought a slow smile to his face and she was satisfied. 

Varian looked up at Luciana. _Your call_ , his gaze said. Luciana turned to Anduin. “He called me a barbarian,” she said. “Said I would lead the kingdom to ruin with my vulgarity. And then said I would probably rape you come the honeymoon.”

Anduin’s expression fell flat at that. “Well,” he said. “I’m glad you didn’t kill him in the Cathedral, of all places.”

“I wanted to,” she said. “I was going to throw the table over to clear my way to him.” She brushed her fingers against his hand, and the sudden spark of recognition in his eyes told her that he’d understood. She was saying that his hand on her thigh had stopped her. His command had halted her advance. She half-smiled, soft past the scars on her face. She’d known he was bright enough to keep up with her.

“Alright, you two,” Varian groaned, stretching out on the sofa. “Go somewhere else. Your King needs sleep.”

“Our King needs to get to his bed,” Anduin said dryly. “Come.” He offered Luciana his hand and when she took it he smiled like it was a gift. It made her smile, and she realized that she'd again forgotten how her jaw scars mangled her smiles, and he didn't seem to care. She obediently followed him from the room.

Anduin’s rooms were more comfortable, more lived-in, but Luciana released his hand, gave him a look, and entered her own chambers. Anduin seemed to understand, and was waiting for her in his room with the passageway opened. “Keeping up appearances?” he murmured, letting the door shut behind her.

She hummed in response and tucked her face against his neck, holding him as she should have several days prior. His hands held her to him, one at the back of her head and the other slowly caressing her back.

“I missed you,” he said quietly. She sighed, feeling more relaxed than she had since she’d left. They stood in silence until she felt satisfied he’d understood that though she didn’t verbalize it, she’d missed him too.

When she pulled away Anduin was wearing a soft smile she could hardly stand to look at. But his happiness was her duty and she kept her eyes on him. “Did you eat enough earlier?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

Nothing had really changed from before, but going from betrothed to engaged had settled an odd weight in Luciana’s stomach. Noble marriages had an extra step that most did not, a formality - the betrothal was the first step, the promise to eventually marry two Houses together rather than two individuals. To protect young members of the House of Nobility from forced marriages, which the Cathedral would not tolerate, the confirmation was set between the betrothal and the engagement rather than just before the marriage itself. Two nobles being engaged was like being tentatively married, though being engaged to the Prince would mean that they’d still be expected to have some formality about them.

Anduin took her hand, gently rubbing her knuckles. The Light tickled her palm and she looked up. “You didn’t sleep,” he said. She shook her head. “I didn’t, either. Not really. I couldn’t still my thoughts. Did you have nightmares?” She shook her head.

“More like day-mares.”

Anduin sighed, pulled her forward until another gentle hug. This time she wrapped herself around him protectively, holding his head to her shoulder. “Do you want to lie down?” he mumbled against her neck. She licked her lips. Her mouth felt dry.

“Will you lie down with me?” she asked quietly after a moment. He would like that. That she asked, that she wanted him as he'd been wanting her. Previously she had refused, but she'd accepted this duty given her to by Varian - _safety and happiness_ \- and she would fill it.

“Yes.”

She pulled away. “I’ll go change,” she murmured. The passageway remained open behind her and she made a note to ask how he did it. Luciana quickly changed into loose cotton shorts and a tank top. She had pyjamas but they were much too warm for her in any but the coldest of winter nights. She gave Anduin another minute to change, knowing he would. When she returned to his room, he was wearing a loose white tank top and pants. Tank tops, it seemed, were quickly becoming popular.

Anduin’s bed smelled exactly as she remembered it and she huddled into it, imagining him sleeping it in alone. His bed, where he slept. Vulnerable. Soft. When she was in Northrend, having trouble sleeping, she’d picture them both sleeping properly in his bed, imagine him reaching for her. On nights when she'd needed a distraction she'd imagined him as she had during her fast - soft, needy, sweat-slicked and dark against the cool bright sheets. Now, he actually was beside her, and was not reaching for her but rather solidly pressing himself against her. She wanted to cry and she didn't know why, exactly, but it hurt her throat when she refused.

“Go ahead and sleep,” Anduin murmured. His hands were infused with his Light, familiar and cool and soothing. She shifted onto her stomach, her arms under her pillow, and watched him. He was on his side, eyes intent as his hands traveled along her back and side, calming her and comforting her with Light. When he looked up, saw her watching him, he blushed, brilliant warmth suffusing his dark cheeks. She smiled tiredly.

“I missed you,” she murmured. His face positively lit up, and she had the fond thought of _you’re ridiculous_ before she closed her eyes. Happiness, indeed. It was so simple to make him happy. She'd keep doing it.


	31. Light Touch

Luciana woke to Anduin’s soft snores. He was on his side, his back to her. She watched for a while as his side rose and fell with each breath. _He’s eighteen_ , she reminded herself. _I’m twenty_. She felt like she was fifty, most days. Old and worn out. Anduin reminded her that she was still young, still had it in her to joke and laugh like she should. Luciana was relaxed, next to him, and tried to stay that way until Anduin began to wake. Then, she let herself take a deep breath, and she was awake.

Anduin was moving now, small things, and Luciana sat up and laid her hand on his side. “Mm?” he groaned, rolling a bit to look at her with unfocused eyes. “Lucy?” he said, yawning. He lay on his back, looking up at her. Obviously he didn’t want to get up yet. “What time is it?”

She glanced over at the clock in the corner. “Quarter past one,” she replied. Anduin sat up slowly, stretching. He had muscle, to be sure. Luciana knew that he regularly practiced his archery, and he was a Wrynn. But he was slimmer, lean and quick, while she was a bull. But even a bull could walk through a porcelain shop without breaking anything. “Slept well?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He was awake now. He was quick to wake, compared to normal people. Luciana was used to sleeping light and waking to a battle, and after several years she couldn’t wake slowly unless she was dead tired. It didn’t happen often. That she had managed to doze lightly while Anduin slept was a mark to how relaxed she felt here. “You?”

She hummed an affirmative. “I’m here for two nights,” she mentioned. “After that it’s back to Arathi, unless plans change and we’re reassigned.”

“Can they do that so suddenly?”

“If there’s need.”

“Tomorrow, you’re going to see a dog, right?” Anduin asked, slipping out of bed and stretching again.

“Yeah. Penny was bred to a terrier and I put the hound master on making a breed.”

“Tell me about them?”

“Boxer terriers,” Luciana said, watching him move around the room. He collected a house coat flung over the top of an armchair, the belt flung somewhere near his desk. Luciana saw it, but Anduin didn’t and searched for it near the nightstand first. “They’re a very interesting shade of tan. Almost orange. Very handsy. Two puppies, when I first saw them, were rearing up to fight, and they were boxing. Hence the name. They try to grab things with their paws.”

“Are they cute, though?”Anduin asked.

“Square heads, rose ears, big chests,” she summarized. “And I could have sworn they had eyebrows. Very expressive faces. A couple of them had minor under bites.”

“Is that staying in the breed?”

“Yes. It gives them character,” she said. “And under bites are good for grabbing and holding. Dragging foxes and rats. The hound master said they might be trained for bear hunting, too. Very intelligent dogs.”

“They sound wonderful,” Anduin said, finding his belt and tying it loosely around his waist. He seemed chilled, but Luciana was pleasantly warm. “How big are they?”

“Supposedly they were going to be around forty pounds.”

“That’s much smaller than a mastiff.”

“Mm, but the mother was just under twenty. Still a solid dog.” She watched him cast around. “Looking for something?” she asked humorously.

“I thought I had slippers somewhere,” he muttered. “Oh.” He poked around under the nightstand, revealing his goal. “Aren’t you cold?” he asked her.

“Not at all. Here.” She held out her hand and he took it.

“You’re burning,” he said, frowning. “Is that really normal?”

“Mm. I’ve been like this since I was a child.” She shrugged. “I’d bet your father is the same way.”

“Our father, soon,” Anduin said, looking up with a small smile. “Are you hungry?”

“I should eat,” she said. “I had enough earlier but three days without eating was hell.”

“Let’s not have you do it again, then.”

“I don’t plan to have another confirmation,” she replied, watching him go to the door. “And I’m not one to deny myself a good meal.”

She expected Anduin to go through the antechamber to speak to a door guard, but it seemed that there were now guards inside as well. Anduin saw her confusion when he shut the door. “There’s two guards in the antechamber and an SI:7 agent,” he explained. “Since the city is so full, and so riled up from the confirmation, they thought it safer.”

“Makes sense.”

“They said about thirty minutes for food,” Anduin said, sitting on the edge of the bed next to her. “Do you have anything planned for today?” he asked, taking her hand gently. It seemed that whenever he touched her now, it was with the Light.

“Rest, eat,” she replied, watching his fingers dance with Light over her hand.

“What does it feel like to you?” he asked. “The Light.”

She took a moment, contemplating her response. “The Light relaxes me,” she started. “Whenever I feel it it’s coming from a healer. I’m used to having a paladin in my squadron so when I feel the Light, it’s the equivalent of saying I’m in a safe spot. At least, for a time.” She blinked slowly, watching the Light flicker about the scars on her palm. It couldn’t heal them and instead tried to soothe them, though the aches had faded long ago. “Your Light is familiar. The Light always tries to warm me, but yours knows to cool me.”

He glanced up, surprised. “It does that?” he asked quietly.

“Yes. Yours does,” she responded, watching his face. Surprise, contentment, wondering. “There’s nuances I couldn’t explain properly.”

“Try?” he asked.

She wet her lips absently. “If you let me use the bathroom, first.”

“Oh, sorry,” he laughed, standing to let her get up. She hurried, and he was sitting on the bed when she emerged from the washroom, waiting for her. She chewed the inside of her cheek.

“Your Light is like...” she started, approaching slowly. “It’s like getting off the ship at the garrison dock. Walking in, seeing the place I’ve been living in for years. Walking back into the barrack, activating the werelights. Everyone’s stuff is strewn about. I could tell you who each item belonged to and why it was laying on someone else’s dresser, or on the floor near the door.”

She stopped in front of him. He was gazing up at her, curious, intent. “It’s like your barrack?”

“More than that. It’s... it’s what’s in the barrack,” she tried. “Not the stuff, or the people. What’s in it.”

“... Comfort? Familiarity?”

“No.” She exhaled, growing a bit frustrated. Anduin took her hand again, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb. “It’s the feeling of coming back after being in Pandaria for a few months. It’s stopping by between Northrend and Stormwind, because of course we’d stop by there first. Even though we didn’t need to pick anything up.”

“A safe place?” he tried.

She wasn’t explaining it properly, and she knew the words to do it but they stuck in her throat. She had said them to Varian, after they sparred and Anduin fetched them for lunch. She couldn’t say them to him, and it was frustrating her. And Anduin could tell. She didn’t want him to think she was frustrated with him, and thought of alternatives. She wondered briefly why he wasn’t saying the words - he would know them, she was sure - but thought that maybe he thought it important for her to say them. Or, he wanted to hear Luciana say it. She looked down at his waiting, patient face. She took the hand that was rubbing her knuckles, held it gently, and brought her other hand up to cup his face. She leaned down, pressing her lips gently, softly to his. A moment, two moments, and she pulled away. “It feels like that,” she said quietly.

It took him a moment to respond. “Oh.” He blinked owlishly. Obviously he hadn’t expected her to kiss him. “There’s no words you can think of for that?” he asked, smiling. He thought himself clever. Honestly, he was, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. She wouldn’t want him to get a big head.

“I’m a warrior,” she said with a matching smile. “I’m not here to parse and mince words. I’m here to break heads.”

“Or hearts,” Anduin said.

“I wouldn’t.”

“Well, if I thought you were never going to kiss me again...” he started.

“You’re going to play it like that?” she asked.

“I wouldn’t,” he said playfully.

“You could ask,” she said.

“Would you do it? Kiss me, if I asked?”

“I might.”

“Luciana, kiss me again?”

Smiling, she leaned down and kissed him again, closed-mouth and soft. His lips were smooth, somewhere between cool and warm. She imagined hers were rougher, though perhaps she only thought that because it was how the rest of her was. When she tried to pull away again after a moment, Anduin brought both his hands to her face to keep her still. His lips slid over hers slowly, invitingly, and she heard him sigh when she responded briefly.

Anduin had a disappointed frown when she did pull back, and she smiled and brushed his messy hair away from his face. She didn’t have any reason to give him besides the ones they both already knew. She didn’t have to repeat them, anyway - he already knew, and the disappointment was short-lived.

Luciana went to her own washroom to brush her teeth and wash her face. She took her time, reading over a few letters that had been dropped off. There were two piles on her desk. One from family, and one from what looked like everyone else in the kingdom. Random people, citizens and guards and soldiers and heroes, had written her. “Fanmail,” she muttered to herself, tossing down the letter she had taken from the top of the pile. “I have fanmail.”

She read through a couple of letter from her cousins, one from her grandparents, one from the heads of the Amadeus House. There were four, one for each branch. Her father was of the main branch, Talia was of the second, and the other two were considered the off branches, still important but not as central. The fourth actually lived in various places to help with their trading business. Ironforge, Redridge, and at one point in time Westfall all held some members of the fourth branch.

She left replying to them for later, returning to Anduin’s room. He had fixed his hair a bit. He was sitting at his desk, looking through his own pile of fanmail. She snuck up behind him and buried her hands in his hair. It was soft like silk, and he started and yelped a complaint when he realized what she was doing. She laughed, pulling his hair slightly so he’d lean back. She kissed his forehead carefully, and watched his ears redden.

“I just brushed it,” he grumbled.

“You can brush it again.”

He reached up, took her hands and laid them on his chest. She leaned forward, settling her weight against the back of his chair. She had the faint urge to cry, again. She pressed her nose against his hair and inhaled the scent of him, the lingering smell of soap, bath oils and something sweet. Not sugary, but sweet.

“Do I smell good?” he asked, amusement in his voice.

“Mm.” She inhaled again, exhaling slowly. Anduin settled into his seat, content to let her do whatever it was she was doing.

There was a knock on the door a minute later. Anduin stood to answer it and, to keep up appearances, Luciana went to her own room. She could hear murmurs, Anduin’s polite chuckle, and a moment later there was a knock at her door. A guard entered with a tray of food. “Apologies for the wait, Lady Knight,” he said. “Do you still prefer that title?”

“Yes.”

“Right. I’ll pass word.” He set the tray down on her table and she stood from her bed. She had taken a moment to muss up her sheets. The guards all knew she and Anduin usually shared his bed to sleep but there was a point in keeping up a charade. Guards would pass along that when they delivered breakfast, she and Anduin were in their own rooms, the beds unmade. Her guard still grinned at her from behind his helm, but she waved him away with quiet thanks for the food.

She started to eat alone, giving the guards ample time to finish their conversation in Anduin’s room. When she was satisfied that she’d waited long enough she picked up her tray and opened the passage. Anduin already had his side open and again, both doors remained open.

“How do you control them?” she asked. “Your father only showed me how to open mine from the outside.”

“Oh, here.” Anduin stood from his round table, and Luciana set her tray down and followed him back to the passageway. He showed her how to open the stone he pressed to reveal several buttons. “Black is to open mine, or I can just push in the stone. Red is to open both,” he said. “There’s a motion sensor that closes them when you’ve gone through. There’s another stone, here.” He showed her a correlating one inside the passageway that looked indistinguishable to the rest of them. “Blue is for my door to open, yellow is for yours.” He returned to the outside button panel. “Orange is to keep mine open, green is to keep them both open. If you hold green it closes them both.” He demonstrated and she memorized it. “Your stone should have the same buttons.”

“Interesting,” she said, watching him close the panel. The stone clicked into place and looked normal in the side of the brick hearth.

They ate slowly, mostly in silence. Luciana’s tray held a fair bit more food than Anduin’s and though he was a young man and needed a good amount of food, her metabolism burned through it like tissue paper if she was even mildly active. He even let her have one of his sausages and some fruit. On her tray was a small sprig of fresh mint and after she was finished eating, she plucked a leaf to chew. Anduin watched with a fond smile.

“Why do you do that?” he asked.

“Do what? Eat?”

“No,” he said slowly, raising an eyebrow. “Chew mint.”

She shrugged. “It’s sharp,” she said. “Like a pinch.”

“Why would you want that?”

“Distracts me.”

“Oh.” He understood almost immediately what she was saying. “I see.”

“I also like the taste of mint.”

“It does go well with a lot of things.” She nodded a few times, absently feeling the mint leaves between two fingers. “Can I see your hand?” Anduin asked. She wordlessly lifted her empty hand and presented it to him. He took it gently, turning it to inspect her palm. “All of these little scars,” he started. “Where are they from?”

“Rock climbing. First tour out, just assigned to my squadron. They were all more experienced than me, and I was younger. And noble. Noble in the army tends to have an attitude. Even if they don’t, they get a reputation stamped on from their title.”

“So you rock climbed to break that?” Anduin asked. She could hear a bit of sarcasm and smiled at him knowingly.

“I climbed the Bloody Cliffs,” she said. “All the way to the top. No gear. Not one of my men gave me any shit after that.”

“Is it that hard to climb them? With a name like that, I guess it is.”

“They were just the cliffs, before I got there,” she said. “Now it’s considered a challenge. If you can make it to the top third you get bragging rights and a reputation.” She sighed. “I had to prove myself to them before I could lead them anywhere. So, stubborn as I was, I climbed the cliffs bare-handed. Started getting cut up halfway through, bled all over the damn place. Took two weeks of rain to get the blood off.” She smiled. “I had fun, actually. And when I got to the top I lifted my hands up and showed them the blood. I shouted down at them. It’s quite a ways up to the top. I didn’t know if they could hear me but I did it anyway.”

“What did you say?”

“Look at me. Look at this. I’m willing to bleed for you. I will die for you. Prove to me that you’re worth it. And they did.” She smiled fondly, sadly. “I had a squadron mate named Michael. He died only weeks into my first tour. That’s why I climbed the cliffs. Sometimes I think the rest of them, the ones that were around when he was, still hate me for it.”

“Why would they?” Anduin asked. “You’re their friend, too.”

“I wasn’t then. I was some greenface from the Academy with a noble title.”

“But you are now. And they would all know how easy it is to die in war.”

She shrugged. “They lost a brother. I’d understand if they hated me for it. I’m not saying they hate me. They just hate me for that.”

“What about your scout?” Anduin said. “You lost a brother, then. You’ve lost men too.”

She shook her head. “Three weeks, and a noble Knight gets their friend killed. It’s just...” She sighed. “A lot of soldiers see nobles as sending people off to die for them. It’s not always the truth, but sometimes it is, and that kind of thing sticks like tar.”

“You’ve been fighting with them this whole time,” Anduin said. “They’ve seen you nearly die for them. I don’t think they could hate you, Luciana. You’re their sister as much as Michael was their brother.”

She shrugged again, not willing to further the disagreement. “Either way,” she said. “I climbed the cliffs, earned a reputation, got some palm scars.”

“What did they say about you?” Anduin asked.

“They said the usual,” she answered, smiling lightly. “She’s a badass. Don’t fuck with her. She’ll fuck you up. She doesn’t feel pain. Pretty nice things to hear about myself, honestly. After that people came together, and I managed to get them into the Regiment’s top ten squadrons. And then the 1st Legion’s. We’ve been there ever since.”

“That’s pretty impressive,” Anduin said. “There’s two hundred and fifty six squadrons to a Legion. That’s a lot of competition.”

“They’re carrying my name out there,” she said. “If they can’t make me look damn good, they don’t belong in my squadron. What’s the words?” she mumbled, thinking back. “If they can’t make me look like the sun shines out my ass, they don’t belong in Amadeus.”

Anduin laughed. His hand had come to rest on her knee, a warm weight. She wished he’d put it up a bit further on her thigh, where she could feel it more acutely. “And people actually respond to that sort of thing?”

“Oh, yeah,” she said. “I tell my soldiers that I’m going to make them the best they can be. I deliver on that and they make sure I look good. It’s a good deal. It’s a slow process. Some of those little shits need a lot of work. But I manage.” She smiled at him and he moved his hand. It was almost a relief. She felt the Light radiate gently from his palm. “You touch me with the Light a lot,” she said.

“I thought you would enjoy it,” he said. “Especially from what you described.”

“I do, don’t get me wrong. But I enjoy just your touch, too.”

He observed her, trying to find something, and the Light slowly faded. His hand was a comforting weight on her leg and she placed her hand over it to hold it there. She didn’t have anything more to say on her palm scars, and Anduin seemed almost lost for words, and they fell into silence for a short time.

“What about the scar on your arm?” he said quietly, glancing at her left arm.

“Oh, orc blade,” she responded lightly. “I was berserking and didn’t even notice it until the Sentinels got there.”

“Was that when you were trapped in the cave?”

“Mm. We lost Devon that day,” she said. “Which is something I wish hadn’t happened. But we got Jill after, and she’s damn good.”

“I’m sorry about him,” Anduin said sincerely. “Do you want to tell me about him? Or talk about something else?”

“Devon was the first one to warm up to me,” Luciana said. “I think, right when I was first brought into the garrison, I was a bit nervous, wanting to make a good impression. Friendly, but confidant. So I grinned kinda like...” She gave her crooked grin and Anduin’s eyes widened slightly. “You know, confidant. So I had my squadron lined up in front of me, Leon off to the side. He was my SO, Knight Lieutenant at the time. And Devon was the first one in the line. He was red as a tomato, stuttering, and everyone seemed pretty surprised at his nervousness. He introduced himself, everyone else followed suit, and a week later I finally asked him why he’d been so nervous.”

“I could see why,” Anduin muttered.

“He told me, Knight. That’s the hottest fucking smirk I’ve ever seen on anyone, female, male, inter, or otherwise. And that’s when I discovered that I apparently have a sexy smirk.”

Anduin pressed his lips together to try and fight back a smile. “You kinda do,” he relented. Luciana chuckled.

“He was surprisingly welcoming after that. Turns out he was flirting with me. Which you’re not technically supposed to do but the rules are always a bit loser when it comes to your own squadron. He drew back a bit after Michael, but then I pulled the cliff stunt and he was back at it.”

“Were you two... close? I mean,” Anduin said. “Together?”

“Not really,” Luciana said. “We slept together a handful of times, but it was never serious. Benefits.” She shrugged. “Didn’t last past the second tour. I guess we both just lost interest in it. We were pretty close friends, still. Devon was a flirt with just about anyone who could smirk. I think he had a thing for it.”

“I’m sorry you lost him,” Anduin said again.

“You lose people out there. Just tell yourself, it happens. They’re with the Light and one day you will be, too. Get up, and keep marching.”

“Did you let yourself fall in the first place?” he asked quietly. “Sometimes I think you never stop marching, even when you should.”

“I’m not the best at it,” she admitted. “But I do what I need to for my soldiers. For myself.”

“Locking down all of your emotions isn’t good for you,” Anduin responded. “It’s actually bad for you. Very bad. That’s the kind of thing that causes breaks.” He tried to catch her eye. “And battle fatigue.”

“I’ve been better,” she said. “I see the priest regularly.”

“You still have nightmares.”

“So you do,” she countered, and he fell silent. “Those memories are stuck in here.” She tapped her temple. “They’re never going away. That’s how it is with battle fatigue. But I can deal with it.” She looked over at him, smiling softly. “And I sleep just fine when I’m with you.”

“You can’t always have me there.”

“No, but I think of you, and that’s almost as good.” He stared at her for a moment, then looked down. His ears were red and she grinned. “Did I embarrass you?”

“I thought you didn’t say things like that.”

“I can. When there’s not other people,” she corrected.

“Where did the scars on your face come from?” he asked suddenly, clearing his throat and looking up at her again.

“Orc claw weapon,” she said briefly. “Caught my jaw first. Just about took the mandible off. Carved down.” She traced the lines with her finger, down her neck and across the top of her chest. “I leaned back just enough to keep it out of my throat. Thank the Light for paladins.”

“Enaeon healed you?”

“Yep. He’s been around pretty much since the beginning. He said something, while I was deliriously trying to get back up, about laying on hands.”

“Paladins have a tradition of touch,” Anduin explained without being verbally prompted. “Their most powerful healing spells depend on close physical contact. I’ve read that when a paladin lays their hands on you, it can bring back the dead. Or, the nearly dead,” he amended. “But there are restrictions. Something about the Light calling them to heal someone, and working through their hands.”

Luciana nodded. “I was pretty dead,” she said. “Almost. If it wasn’t for my fury driving for blood I would have been.”

Anduin reached up to touch her jaw, stopped, and asked, “May I touch them?”

“Sure.”

His fingertips lightly traced the third scar, deepest and widest of them, down her jaw. Across her neck. Down past her clavicle, to just above her left breast. Silently he took his hand back. “What about your temple?”

“Northrend,” she supplied. “Would-be assassins from the Horde. Probably targeting me specifically.”

“Because of the firmed betrothal?”

She nodded easily. “I slaughtered them. Got a bit angry,” she grinned. “Got the cut as a result. Enaeon yelled at me about being more careful.” She chuckled. “They call him Lightheart for his sense of humour, but he’s always scolding me.”

“Apparently someone needs to follow you around to do it,” Anduin grumbled.

“Are you volunteering for the job?” she asked.

“I would but I think Father would have an aneurysm.”

“And a hernia.”

“And a heart attack.”

“And ulcers.” She pointed to her own lip. “What about you? Where’s this one from?” She was referring to the faded scar that passed over the right side of his lips, barely visible save for the slight sheen of old scar tissue.

“The Divine Bell,” he said quietly. “When it was broken, it fell on me. It’s a miracle it didn’t kill me.”

“The Light was on you that day,” she said.

“Must have been. I survived, with a temporary limp, a scar on my lip, and one on my right hip. Father had people fetch the Prophet Velen to heal me, and a number of adventurers volunteered.”

“You’re loved by your people, Anduin,” she said. “It’s no wonder they volunteered.”

“Does that number include you?” he asked in a small voice, and immediately reconsidered. “You don’t have to answer that,” he said hurriedly. “I know you care. You can...” he hesitated. “You can answer another time.”

She appreciated it. Her feelings were strong, but mixed up like slurry and she couldn’t tell what exactly they were, or where each one ended and another began. She needed a bit more time to sort them out. “I do care,” she said anyway, and some of the tension building in Anduin’s shoulders bled out. “I’ll answer another time. Maybe next time I’m here.”

“That might be a long way away.”

“Well, when I visit next I might have an answer for you. Might,” she repeated, because he looked too hopeful. Almost too hopeful.

“I’m told I’m patient,” he said.

“You can be sometimes,” she replied with a smile.

Luciana returned to her room for a while. She dressed in loose brown pants and her cream long-sleeved shirt. It was comfortable, flexible, and not too warm. She waited a while before returning, passed the time tidying up her room, as servants were going to come by to fetch their trays from Anduin’s room.


	32. Likeable

She hardly noticed it, but her shirt was a bit tight around her chest and shoulders and Anduin was staring at her while she sat at his round table, reading letters. “Something on my face?” she teased, expecting him to joke with her.

“You are very muscular and I find that very attractive,” he responded plainly, and she stared at the letter in her hand for a moment before looking up.

“Oh,” she said, for once the speechless one. “Okay.” She tried to return to the letter in her hand. She looked at it unseeing for a few moments.

“I have to resist touching you sometimes,” Anduin continued. “When you wear your parade uniform, if you stand in parade rest, your shoulders kind of...” He tried to roll his shoulders the way she did when falling into rest and she felt a bit stupid for a moment.

“They do that, yeah,” she said numbly. “I... Didn’t know you liked it so much.”

He shrugged. “I thought you might like to know.”

“I. Okay.” She nodded a few times, blankly, and stared at the desk. She put the letter down, looking up again. “Do you really?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” She stared at a point somewhere near his chest. “I didn’t know that. I mean, I had an idea.”

“Father suggested I tell you,” Anduin said. “Not everything. He didn’t mention anything specific. Just told me to let you know a couple of things I like about you.”

“My shoulders?”

“Your frame. Yes.”

“Oh.”

“And your hands.”

She looked at her palms. “The scars?” she asked.

“No. Well, that’s part of it, I guess.”

She blinked. “Palms?”

“Part of it. I just like your hands.” He wanted to stop talking, but she didn’t want to let it go.

“Why?” she asked. “You don’t have to answer right now,” she offered.

He sighed, looked up. His ears weren’t red but he looked awkward. “I just like it,” he said.

“Okay.”

She picked up her letter again, read through it, and was halfway through penning a reply to thank the person politely for their well-wishes when Anduin sighed explosively and threw his papers down. “I like your shoulders and your hands because you could pick me up and throw me and hold me down and I find that attractive, and even more than that you’re a woman and you’re very tall, and you walk like Father does with your shoulders down and arms out and hips forward and it makes you look dangerous and I like that,” he said quickly.

She stared at him in silence for a moment, and he huffed and picked up his papers. Her gaze slid back down to her pen, hovering an inch over the paper, and then back to Anduin. “I’m glad you like it,” she said quietly.

“I said I did,” he snapped, and now he was blushing.

“I say that because the alternative is that it frightens you,” she added. “And I don’t think I could live with that.”

She returned her gaze to her letter, finished writing it, and set it aside to let the ink dry. She picked up another letter, read through it, and Anduin spoke. “You don’t frighten me,” he said. “Father used to frighten me until I learned how to read his fury. It’s never directed at me. It goes around me like a Power Word. Yours does the same. Except Father had to learn how to do it. Yours just does it.”

“You’re a healer,” she explained. “I always protect my healers. Without them, everything is lost.”

“Is that really why?”

She sighed. “You remember on the docks, when you came back from Ironforge and came down to wish me farewell?”

“Yes.”

“I relaxed because your Power Word was up around me. Well,” she said, cleared her throat. “I relaxed without even realizing it. Because a friendly healer was shielding me, I could feel the Light. That relaxes me. But you were also rubbing my palm and that was quite nice.”

“You and Father both always talk about healers and warriors,” Anduin said quietly. “Why is that? Why say they’re so well-matched?”

“They are,” Luciana said. “It’s like two pieces of a puzzle made to fit. Not all warriors get along with all healers, but their abilities, their...” She sighed. “Not their personalities. Their...” She fit her fingers together. “I don’t know. They mesh well. Healer and warrior. One heals and one protects. One healer and one warrior can keep a raid going for hours. The healer keeps the warrior on their feet and the warrior keeps the enemies off the healer.” She shrugged. “That’s not all I see here, you know.” She could see where his frustration was rooted. “We do match well together because neither of us has something that would step on each other’s toes, but together we cover just about the whole field.” 

She wasn’t saying it properly and she could see that, so she kept talking. “I don’t like to spread out where I might smother someone with it. But you don’t cover the same areas as me so we can both spread out and have enough room without threatening the other. It...” she sighed, and leaned back. “I don’t know, Anduin. I don’t know how to explain it. It’s always been like this for me.”

“It hasn’t for me.”

“I know.” She chewed her lip for a moment. “Yellow and blue are two separate colours. Right? You couldn’t say yellowish blue or bluish yellow, but you can say green if you put a yellow tissue over a blue tissue. Then they’re green. But the blue doesn’t become more yellow and the yellow doesn’t become more blue.”

“You really are having a hard time explaining it,” he said, smiling a bit. At least he wasn’t upset.

“You know what I’m saying,” she said, exasperated.

“I do, sort of,” he said. “It’s like drawing from two mana pools. They’re separate and when you draw from them at the same time they don’t intercept each other, but they’re compatible.”

“Okay, now I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

Anduin chuckled, and Luciana smiled. It seemed she was getting it across, even without the right words. “Okay, then how about two sheathed daggers? You can use one or the other but it’s best to use both.”

“Why not say that first?” she complained. “I don’t know anything about mana. I don’t use it. I can’t eat it.”

Anduin laughed outright and Luciana grinned in triumph. “You know plenty about mana!” he scoffed. “You just like pretending to be obtuse.”

“I’m constantly surrounded by idiots. Why do you think I do that?”

“I know the feeling,” he groaned. “Trust me.”

“Oh, I know you know.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, and Luciana thought. “I like your hands, too,” she said. “You’re always gentle when you touch me.”

“I don’t think you get very many gentle touches,” he said. “So I do try.”

“I like it.”

She had to bite her lip and pluck a leaf off of the mint stem she’d kept from breakfast to distract herself. She had started to imagine Anduin’s hands, soft and cool, running over her back, and then she’d added the rest of her on the bed, her chest down and hips up... and she had to stop herself there because she started to feel warm, and unless there was a fight about to break out in the hallway it was best to not let it thrive.

“Read something interesting?” he asked.

“No, why?”

“You’re chewing mint. You said it distracted you,” he said.

“Oh. No, it’s nothing in the letters.”

“Intrusive thought?”

“... Not really?” He was concerned now, only a little but enough to notice. She sighed.

“What is it, then? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I don’t.” She shook her head, glancing up at him. “I just had a very interesting thought about your hands.”

It took him a moment. He wasn’t quite used to where her mind went, and his mouth opened slightly as he said, “Oh,” and he looked down quickly. And then back up. “I’m not sure whether or not I should ask you what it was.”

“You shouldn’t,” she said. “Not now, anyway. If you can remember it for June you could ask me.”

“June - oh.” Their wedding. Now he was scarlet. “Oh.”

She smiled at his blush. “You’re going to have to get used to this,” she said, amusement clear in her voice. “Because when I need distracting it’s either because I’m angry, or because I’m thinking something I shouldn’t be thinking until after the wedding ceremony.” He nodded mutely. “Do you need a minute?” she asked laughingly. He shook his head. “Okay, if you’re sure.” He nodded.

She watched him for a moment, smiling, then returned to her letters. It took time, but she managed to get through all of the fanmail and most of the words from nobility and foreign diplomats. There was even a letter from King Greymane, written in familiar words and mentioning something about bratty Wrynn warriors and how he hoped she’d only inherit the good traits from Varian. Or at least, not the mischievous streak. Little did the King know that she had one of her own. She could hold back on the dog jokes, but only most of the time. Her family was known for their hunting dogs.

When Anduin sighed and stretched his back a few hours later, she looked up. She could use a good stretch herself, maybe a bit of training. Weight training, she decided, or running. Maybe a spar. “How’re you doing?” he asked. “I’ve only gotten through half of my mail.”

“I didn’t get as much as you. I’ve only got some letters from the nobility left.”

“Do you think we should take a walk?”

“And risk starting a flash mob? No. Right now I think I’d start hitting people if they crowded me. And my hits tend to be very dangerous.”

“Right. What about around the Keep? The servants wouldn’t mob us. They might want to meet you personally, but they’re used to seeing Father walk around naked at four in the morning.”

Luciana grinned disbelievingly. “He walks around naked?” 

“Sometimes.” Anduin shrugged. “You get used to it.”

Luciana laughed. “Maybe I should start doing that. Let everyone get used to it.”

“Oh my Light.” Anduin hid his face in his hands. “Please don’t. Please. Luciana.”

She kept laughing as she stood, walking past him on her way to the passage. She brushed her hand over his shoulder. “I won’t,” she promised. “But I might not always want to get dressed.”

“At least wear underclothes!”

“But I don’t need them!” she said. “No dangly bits! And I don’t actually need a bra. I barely need a breast band.”

“Oh my Light,” he mumbled into his hands. He was blushing now and Luciana ruffled his hair a bit before opening the passageway.

She found socks and shoes, brushed her hair, and unrolled the sleeves on her shirt so she could fold them up more neatly, leaving her forearms bare. She flexed them, watching, and wondered exactly how much Anduin liked her arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For SeafaringRain7 for reminding me that I have an ongoing story on this website. (surprisingly this is not a sarcastic comment.)


	33. Vacation's Over

Luciana didn’t sleep heavily during the night and woke twice to noises. At one point someone knocked, very lightly, on the passageway door. It was either an assassin or Varian, and she was willing to bet it was Varian considering the number of SI:7 roaming the halls.

She slipped out of the bed with care not to wake Anduin, who was lying on his back and kept snoring softly. It was indeed Varian in the passage, and when she opened the door he peered over her head to her bed. “He’s with you,” he sighed.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“Yeah, come here.”

He backed up into Anduin’s room and she left the passageway open. “Is it about Anduin?”

“No. I just found it odd that he wasn’t in here. Though I guess I should have expected it, and it does raise one question. What are you two doing together?” he asked her frankly.

“Sleeping, like he is right now,” she answered. “I suppose a bit of holding hands?” she said unsurely.

“Alright.” He waved it off. “I just received a report that the Dark Portal in the Blasted Lands turned red.”

“It’s supposed to be green,” she said slowly. “Magic? Something coming through?”

“Probably the second,” Varian sighed. “No one’s been sent through yet. We don’t want to risk losing any scouts. I’ve sent orders to set up a base camp and when reports come in from that I’ll probably send over some adventurers. Anduin will be busy tomorrow,” he said, “helping me with logistics. I know you want to spend time together. I’m sorry about this.”

“This takes priority,” she said, shaking her head slowly. “It’s likely demons behind the changing colours. And if it’s the Legion, they might be preparing a strike. We need to be ready for that.”

“Right.” Varian sighed quietly, running a hand through his loose hair. “I’ll tell Anduin about it tomorrow. I wanted to just check on him tonight. The Dark Portal is... Well, it’s not pleasant to think about,” he said.

“I understand.”

He smiled grimly and gave her shoulder a firm pat. “Get some sleep, Luciana. When you head out tomorrow, be discrete. The city’s still riled from the confirmation and we’ve still got a lot of foreign envoys. The Horde was seen out of the city right after the dinner.”

“I’m surprised you let them in.”

He scowled. “I wasn’t going to, but I realized it would be a good idea to play nice. The Horde is barbaric and brutal, but even they understand how important it is that the Prince is engaged. They were willing to show a small gesture of respect and if I’d refused, we would be seen as the barbarians.”

“They were smart about it,” she said. “Sending the pandaren was a good move on their part.”

“It was.” He sighed. “It’s an odd time for this. Get back to bed, Luciana. I might see you tomorrow morning.”

“I’d understand if you didn’t,” she said. “I could come in to tell you I’m leaving?”

“Do that,” he said. He gave her shoulder a squeeze before letting go. She watched him open up the passage that lay between Anduin’s room and his, next to a bookshelf and behind a table. It seemed longer than the one between her and Anduin, lit with lowered werelights. After a moment she returned to her room, shutting the passageway behind her.

Anduin woke her in the morning with an apologetic smile. “I’ve got to go,” he said. “Father needs me.”

“I spoke to him last night when he came looking for you,” she said, stretching out under the covers. Anduin’s hand was on her back and he snatched it away like she’d burned him. “I know the gist of it. Go ahead. I’ll come see you when I can.”

“Okay.” He hesitated, brushed his hand over the back of her neck, and left. The dog was already gone. Luciana relaxed for a few minutes in her bed, but she was already wide awake and it was nearing eight o’clock, so she rolled out of bed.

She dressed in older, worn clothes, and dug her cloak out of her closet. Breakfast was in her room within twenty minutes and she thought that maybe the guards waited for signs of movement before sending for food. Luciana ate hastily, practically inhaling a bowl of oatmeal with fruit and cinnamon, a three egg omelette with mushrooms, Dalaran sharp, and spinach, a few strips bacon, and two thick pieces of toast with butter and jam.

She left the plates on her table, donned her cloak and left the hood down. “I’m heading out to the Amadeus manor,” she told her door guard quietly. “Trying to keep my head down. We’ll see how well that goes.”

“I’d go by foot, in that case,” the guard suggested.

“Yeah.”

Luciana passed through the Old Town, keeping her hood up and her chin down to try and obscure her face. She’d covered up her jaw scars with a scarf, as they were her most identifying feature, and she was miraculously unmolested until she reached the manor. Ophelia was waiting for her.

“Luciana!” she cried, gripping her tightly with two skinny arms. “I missed you! I’m so sorry, I missed the confirmation!” she blubbered, crying.

“It’s alright,” Luciana soothed, hugging her close. “Really, it is. I was pretty grumpy and I’m glad you weren’t at the breakfast, because I nearly had to kill someone for insulting me.”

Ophelia didn’t take the last part very seriously, but after some consolation from Luciana she calmed. “I wish I’d been there,” she said. “It was your confirmation! That’s very important.”

“You were sick,” Luciana said, guiding her sister back into the manor. “Father wrote me. It’s really alright, Ophelia. I promise. And anyway, it’s not nearly as important as the wedding.”

“I’ll definitely be there,” she said. “We all will! When is it? There’s no date set yet. Desmond says it will probably be in July, when the weather’s nice and warm.”

Luciana shrugged noncommittally as even she didn’t know the exact date. “Who else is here?” she asked.

“Well, Bannister’s still in bed but he was supposed to get up soon and see Matthew,” she said. “About the dogs. Mother’s here but she’s having a meeting. Father is here too but he’s in the meeting. Aunt Talia is out for a while, Desmond is here. He’s also still in bed. And some of your squadron friends are here.”

“Alright. Did you have something to get to?”

“Nope! What are you going to wear to the wedding?” she asked. “I think you should wear a dress, but you don’t like dresses, and you look funny in them anyway. Like if we put Bannister in a dress.”

“I’m not used to them.”

“Right. But everyone says that you’re a woman and women wear dresses to weddings. But the Prince wore a skirt!”

“Robe,” she corrected with a smile. “Well, I guess it was sort of a skirt.”

“And he’s a man. So I don’t think it really matters.”

“I don’t know what I’ll be wearing,” she said. “Dechaine will take care of that.”

“Dechaine?” Ophelia froze and Luciana realized her mistake. “As in. Lady Dechaine.”

“Yes?”

“You met her?” Ophelia squealed, latching onto Luciana’s hand. “You met her! Tell me all about her!”

Luciana laughingly told Ophelia of her brief meeting with Lady Dechaine and the Estrang brothers, whom Varian had called in for her confirmation outfit. “This time they’ll have months to prepare,” Luciana said. “So I can only imagine what they’ll come up with.”

Ophelia was practically blubbering when Luciana left her with a handmaid. She knocked on Bannister’s door, waited, and then tried the doorknob. Locked. “Bann,” she called. “I’m waiting.”

She heard him groan and grumble and the bed shifted, but there was no further sound.

“I’m doing to open the door,” she warned. “And it’s locked. But that’s never stopped me before.”

“Alright, alright!” she heard.

The door opened to reveal Bannister, bleary-eyed and bed-headed. “Good morning,” Luciana greeted with a grin. There was an answering groan from inside the bedroom and Bannister was suddenly very awake as Luciana’s eyes widened comically. “Well, that was fast.”

Bannister shut the door. Within a minute he opened it again, slipped through and shut it behind him. “Okay,” he said, raising his hands to stall anything she might have said. “It’s not what it looks like. Well, actually. It’s probably exactly what it looks like. But...”

“Bann,” she said.

“But I swear, it’s not what it looks like. I mean, yes, he’s in there, but I didn’t...”

“Bann.”

“I didn’t force anything and he’s not trying to, I don’t know. He’s not trying...”

“Bann!” She took him by the shoulders and gave him a shake. “Relax.”

He blinked at her. “How do you know who it is?”

“I don’t. Well, not really. But Christopher always groans like that when I wake up the squadron after a long night. And I suppose you two had a very long night?” she teased, smiling. Bannister blushed, wet his lips.

“You could say that,” he said evenly.

“You’re both adults,” she said. “I’m his Lieutenant but right now we’re both on leave. Is this a permanent thing?”

“No,” Bannister said. “It might happen again. What did you expect, bringing him here?” he said.

“I expected his hosts to act courteously and not seduce my soldier,” she said. Bannister grinned sheepishly.

“Sorry?” he tried. “He flirted with me first!”

She rolled her eyes, released his shoulders. “As long as I don’t have him trying to pull the ‘I know what your brother’s dick looks like’ card I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll... talk to him about it?” Bannister said unsurely. “Is that actually going to happen?”

“When I make them run suicides they’ll do anything to get out of it,” she chuckled. “Don’t worry about it.” She waved it off. “Were either of you drunk?”

“No. I was a little tipsy but nowhere near drunk.”

“And you both consented?”

“Completely.”

“Then, how about you show me this dog you picked out?”

“Absolutely.”

She waited for Bannister by the hound enclosure. Matthew, the hound master, waved at her from inside the building. She gave a small wave in return and soon Bannister was walking across the grounds towards her. “Smallish dog,” he said. “Thirty-seven pounds. Average is forty on the dot. Bit of a brat. Female, under bite, rose ears like you wanted.”  
The dog was already separated from the others and waiting for her. “Aw, look at you,” she crooned, kneeling so the dog could greet her. The tail was black while the rest of the body was tan, and the dog had a wiry overcoat and a soft, thick undercoat. “Do you have a name yet?”

“Not yet,” Matthew answered. “Good dog, though. Taught her a few tricks. Lots of energy and very intelligent. Fine companion.”

Matthew showed her some of the tricks he’d taught the dog. “She’s second generation from Penny’s second litter,” Bannister said. “We used four female terriers and Penny, and we’re going to refine the physical traits with another mastiff in the third generation.”

“She’s just about perfect,” Luciana said, scratching the dog’s back. It bent under her hands and the dog looked back as though to say, a bit to the right. “The tail’s kinked, though.”

“It happens sometimes with mastiffs. Sets wrong in the womb.”

“Ah, it’s cute,” Luciana said, giving the tail a little tug. It was thick around the base. “She’s got forehead wrinkles!”

“Thought you might like that,” Bannister said with a smile. “And that big square head you mentioned.”

Luciana rubbed the head between the two ears, which were perked up towards her. “Rose ears are the best,” she muttered. “You’re so cute.” She inspected the dog’s teeth and jaw, her chest, her paws. “Nails are a bit pointed. Good for digging.”

“What will you name her?” Bannister asked.

“Mm. I don’t know yet.”

“Did you ever name your sword?”

“Oathkeeper.”

“Sounds ominous.”

“You’re not the first to tell me that,” she replied. “Will the dog follow me?”

“I’ve been training her with your old clothes,” Matthew said. “For your scent. Once she’s used to you she will.”

Luciana made a kissing noise and the dog watched her go. Luciana patted her thigh, and the dog trotted out after her. “Good puppy,” she crowed, leaning down to rub the dog’s head. “How’s Penny doing?”

“He’s getting a bit old for hunting, at eight,” Matthew said. “But he’s just about perfect for anything else. Doing well with the pups, with your family.”

“Good. He’s a good dog.”

“Don’t we know it,” Matthew replied.

The dog followed Matthew, and then Luciana, and then went back to Matthew before following Bannister for a bit. Matthew demonstrated how fast she could sprint and how well she could jump and leap. “Got the terrier jump,” he said. “Good trait. Bigger dogs ain’t so good with it.”

Bannister soon turned to Matthew. “Why don’t you take the dog back to the stables for now?” he said.

“Sure thing. You alright with this one? Or you want to look at the others?”

“This one’s perfect for me,” Luciana said. “Thank you.”

Bannister was silent as Mathew walked away, the dog trailing him. When they were alone, Bannister turned to her. “You’re looking better,” he said. “Have you been seeing someone?”

“I confess regularly,” she said.

“Good. And what about the Prince?” he asked. “How are they treating you?”

“Well.” She nodded slowly. “Very well.”

“Are you happy with this?”

“I am.”

“Good.” Bannister nodded once, decisively. “The King treats you well?”

“Very well. We’ve sparred a few times.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“Mm-hm.”

“And the Prince. How do you feel about him?”

She sighed, loosened her shoulders. “I like him,” she said. “I know that much.”

“Do you love him?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know yet. But we get along and being around him tends to remind me I’m only twenty.”

“You forgot your own age?” Bannister joked. “Maybe you should see a priest about that, too.”

She glared at him. “I meant,” she growled, “that I often feel much older than I am, and when I’m with Anduin and I remember he’s eighteen, I also remember that I’m twenty and I am not, in fact, a worn-out fifty year old vet with more scars than sense.”

“You need someone like that,” Bannister said. “I’m glad it turned out alright. You were pretty off when you came back the first time.”

“I know. I was afraid they’d pull me out of the army.”

“But they didn’t.”

“Nope.”

“You’d figure it would be too dangerous for the future Queen.” He chuckled. “My sister, the Queen of Stormwind. Has a nice ring to it. It’ll raise our House up, certainly. But we won’t see you as much anymore. We rarely see you as is.”

“I can’t show favouritism to a House,” she said. “I can see my family, but if I were to stay here while on leave it would be seen as giving Amadeus an in with the Royal House.”

“And we can’t have that. More trouble than it’s worth.” He shuddered. “I’ll leave all that to Father and Aunt Talia.”

Luciana hummed an agreement. “It is dangerous out there,” she said. “But I’m not leaving.”

“If anyone is stubborn enough to survive a war, it’s you.”

“Thanks,” she said dryly. “How are my other soldiers behaving here?”

“All of them are very polite. Jillian especially seems to have taken a shine to Ophelia.”

“Good. They’re behaving. Less suffering for them when we get back to base.”

She poked her head into Bannister’s room briefly before leaving. Christopher was still in there, and jumped in surprise when she spoke. “Hi,” she said simply. He spun, and stared at her with wide eyes. She grinned wickedly and left.

“I’m going to have fun with this,” she whispered to Bannister before she left the manor, her hood up and her scarf around her nose.

She spent the rest of her day in her room, reading through yet more letters that had come in. She was not yet allowed to know the classified things that Varian and Anduin dealt with but she could poke her head in to borrow one of them for a moment to see how things were going. Both were swamped with work at the sudden need for resources, and while she could tell Anduin wanted her to stay and at least sit with them, it was best if she didn’t.

She went to bed alone, was awake at midnight when Anduin laid down next to her, and woke again sometime later when he rose early to continue working. She sparred with several of the Royal Guards, meditated, and received books she’d ordered copies of after browsing the library on an earlier visit. She spent some time organizing them in her bookshelf, which was quickly filling up, and wrote out a list of things she wanted to ask Enaeon for the briefer on draenic culture that Anduin had challenged her to write.

She again went to bed alone, and this time Anduin did not join her. She slept uneasily but managed to get a solid few hours of rest, even without a dog. Anduin did come to see her while she was eating breakfast. “You’re leaving today?” he asked, sitting next to her at the round table.

“Yeah, in... one hour we’re meeting at the docks.”

“I’m sorry I had to leave you,” he said when she was finished eating. “But Father needed an extra and I’m really the only person qualified, besides a Field or a Grand Marshal.”

“I know,” she soothed, giving his hand a squeeze. “I know how these things go, Anduin.”

“I’ll miss you,” he said tentatively. She smiled, moved to lean her forehead against his for a moment.

“I’ll come back,” she promised quietly.

“Kiss me?”

She gave him a chaste kiss, feeling a light thrill in her gut. Anduin was hesitant to leave, but they both knew he had to return to the piles of paperwork that had to be processed and he eventually left her.

Luciana met with her squadron at the docks, flanked by six mounted Royal Guards. She dismounted once they were down the ramps, handed off the reins. “Light be with you, Lady Knight,” one guard said. “Steady winds and safe return.”

“Light be with you,” she said to the group at large, and turned on her heel to join her squadron. They had already assembled, waiting in loose formation for her. Enaeon greeted her first.

“Luciana,” he said, his familiar accent tinting his Common. “How are you?”

“I’m alright, big guy,” she said, patting his armoured forearm. “How is everyone? Have a nice vacation?”

“Pretty good,” Jillian chuckled. “Got nice and smashed on night elf wine and partied two days right down the crapper.”

“Good on you,” Luciana praised. “Vic, you have fun?”

“Yeah, took the chance to relax,” she responded.

“With some peacebloom?” Lars joked.

“What’s it to you?”

“You could’ve shared!”

“And how about you, Chris?” she asked. “Have a fun time here in Stormwind?” He was mute and beet-red, and she laughed loudly and gave his shoulder a pat. “Yep,” she said. “I think he had fun.”

“That is an interesting colour,” Enaeon commented curiously. “Is that normal? Do you need me to check your face?”

Christopher only got redder and Luciana kept laughing until boarding started. “C’mon,” she said, wrapping an arm around his back. “Leave the poor guy alone. He’s had an... interesting time here in Stormwind.”

“You gotta tell us,” Kain implored. “Please? It looks like he’s going to blow!”

“Oh, he already did,” Luciana chuckled. Christopher looked about ready to piss himself and she gave him a break when they were in the hold, distracting everyone with a retelling of her three-hour fight with the King. When Christopher’s face was calmed down and everyone had scattered to find their own entertainment for the coming voyage, she nudged his leg across the space between their two cots. “Hey, relax,” she said. “I’m not going to bite you.”

“Are you sure?” he squeaked. “Because I think you’re going to.”

“Pretty sure,” she chuckled. “As long as you didn’t do anything I should bite you for. Like flirt with my sister.”

“She’s sixteen!” he said, affronted by the implications of Luciana’s words.

“Exactly.”

She settled into her cot with a book and Christopher eventually relaxed, realizing that she really wasn’t upset - though that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to make jokes at his expense for the next little while.


	34. Rebuilding Darkshire

Amadeus Squadron had four days in the garrison before news came with a reassignment. “Tol Barad needs reinforcements,” Knight Captain Rivers said. Luciana and Tungsted of the 115th were standing at ease, shoulder to shoulder, in front of him. “You’re both being sent over for four weeks to give them that. Your orders will come down the line and whatever they ask you to do, you do it. Unless there’s firm reason to believe that obeying orders will result in extreme and avoidable loss, you will follow orders. Understood?”

“Sir!” they both cried.

“Good. There are reports on local activity on your desks. Dismissed.”

Luciana got to break the news to her men later that day. “Tol Barad?” Daniel groaned. “Are you serious?”

“Difficult place,” Christopher commented.

“Don’t you mean hard?” Luciana asked, and he choked.

“Are you ever gonna tell us what went down?” Victoria asked.

“Nope. I’m going to keep it all to myself, and savour it,” Luciana said slowly, teasingly, and Christopher cleared his throat loudly. She cackled, calmed herself, and continued. “We’re being sent over with 115th. Captain was clear that we’re to obey orders unless there’s an extreme situation. Loss of life, avoidable major losses, that sort of thing.”

“Isn’t it a contested area?” Lawrence asked.

“Probably why we’re being sent. Scarjaw over here,” Kain said, pointing at Luciana. “She’s got a reputation with them Greenskins.”

Someone threw a pillow at Kain, probably Victoria. Jillian said, “Well, either way, we’ve got our gist. When’re we out?”

“We leave Sunday,” Luciana said.

“Three days? Man, we just got back,” Lawrence grumbled. 

“Settle your affairs quickly, then. Wouldn’t want to get caught with your pants down.”

Christopher choked on the water he’d been trying to drink. Luciana was proud of her timing.

Tol Barad Peninsula welcomed them with a heavy, unpleasant fog. “Welcome to the island,” Major Marsden greeted them. The island was currently held by the Alliance Naval Forces, as well as a recently revived faction - the Baradin Wardens. They weren’t new, but after the island had fallen back into the interest of the world at large, their numbers had swelled up with new recruits and reinforcements. “Lots of spiders about. Hope none of you have got arachnophobia.”

Lawrence let out a weak groan.

Major Marsden was the one to hand down orders to both Luciana and Tungsted, leaving them to figure out their own squadrons. The two exchanged work on several occasions after discussion the option with the Major, who really didn’t care as long as what needed to be done was done, on time and properly.

“I’ll take the Darkwood,” Tungsted said. “Giant spiders are nothing new to us. I’ll hand over the cemetery.”

“Good, good,” Luciana murmured, cataloguing her available soldiers versus missions. “I suggest you concentrate on getting a few silk glands before thinning their numbers. The camp’s running out fast.”

“Will do, thanks,” he said, noting it down. “Get that big out one first. Lieutenant Connor, they call him. He can apparently gather the smaller ones.”

“Right.”

She and Tungsted worked closely together for the month they were in Tol Barad. Exchanging missions based on expertise of their Knights and their soldiers became relatively common and the only one Luciana held onto was the one to take out the giant shark, Tank, who had apparently been attacked several times prior. “Victoria’s familiar with the model of cannon they have at the Keep over the beach,” she said. “She’ll be able to do a lot of damage.”

“What about the supply boats? She could take those, too. We’ll clear the Keep out for your cannon girl if she can come over after and take out some of the boats.”

“Fair enough.”

Tungsted was a smart man, able to balance logistics and supply numbers almost effortlessly. He reminded Luciana a bit of Dania, who she wrote to several times while on the island. The replies were sent to the garrison for when she returned.

The month was a productive one and both her and Tungsted received commendations from the Major, who complimented their ability to work together and utilize the full abilities of their respective Companies. Their return to Arathi was rough but thankfully the worst of the storm was to the west and they passed by with minimal trouble.

113th Company was soon reassigned again, this time to Duskwood. The feral worgen population had skyrocketed and already some of the outlying towns had been overrun. Darkshire had officially declared a state of emergency by the time they arrived and Jillian had immediately been set on edge.

“I can smell ‘em,” she growled lowly. Thankfully, the locals could tell the difference between a feral and a Gilnean. They encountered some adventurers, were who happy to come along and aid in exchange for a bit of gold. This worked in Luciana’s favour, because the number of feral worgen had been severely underestimated and she needed reinforcements that would take too long to arrive if she sent for them from Arathi.

She handed out commendations that could be exchanged for small amounts of coin, depending on the danger of any given mission - or quest, as the adventurers preferred to call them. Their first step was to reinforce Darkshire’s borders, and Luciana set Grayson and Oaken to the task permanently. She collected a dozen or so adventurers to set out with Amadeus and Plains, and for six and a half weeks they hunted feral worgen, and their source.

Karazhan had once been the starting point of the curse, according to Jillian. The night elves knew a lot about it, as they had once suffered from the effects of pack form, in which they could lose themselves to fury and groupthink. It was thought that the pack form was also a source of the worgen. Luciana switched from a draenic introduction to a worgen one and took notes on whatever Jillian said. She made sure to ask Jillian if she minded, and while the scout wasn’t too keen on having personal thoughts written down, Luciana assured her that it was to bring light to the worgen. She was making an attempt to help familiarize civilians and common folk with the worgen of Gilneas, which was something that Gilnean nobility had already been trying to do since the Cataclysm, and Jillian was willing to help with it.

The source of the sudden jump in worgen was an undead necromancer who had taken refuge in the crypts in Raven Hill. It took another two weeks to clear the place, and Luciana had to call up Grayson to help out once Darkshire was secured. She left word with the leader of their guards that if an adventurer completed a ‘quest’ for Darkshire, they could earn a commendation worth some gold from the army under Luciana’s name. She also wrote to her father about potentially opening up a trade discourse with Darkshire, as the town had ample access to wolf and bear pelts, as well as greater owls. The greater owls that roamed the edge of the river between Duskwood and Elwynn had feathers that were perfect for fletching arrows, small for their size and numerous to make up for it.

Raven Hill was full of undead corpses by the time the scouts found the necromancer’s hiding place and Luciana charged in with protective runestones an adventuring mage had been commissioned to make. They deflected the worst of the damage, though the necromancer also knew some frost spells. Enaeon was, thankfully, familiar with frostbite after Northrend.

The necromancer fell after a few hours of fighting and chasing him through the crypt. Luciana ordered a search for his phylactery and had Enaeon purify it. A high-pitched shriek came from the thing as the draenei worked the Light, and it lasted for a good twelve seconds. Jillian had to cover her ears with her paw-like hands, growling until the ringing left their ears. She shook out her head and Victoria laughed at the action, earning another loud growl.

After the source had been plugged up, Luciana set up a rotation of four patrols through the woods surrounding Darkshire. Other groups of people had settled down in various locations and Luciana made sure to send some adventurers their way, as well as occasional patrols. 

She wrote to Knight Captain Rivers to report their success and requested that she be allowed to extend their stay to continue their work with Darkshire’s Night Watch Militia, who desperately needed aid against local encroaching ogres and continued problems with undead. She received a positive response within a week, which allowed her to promise aid to the Night Watch.

Week after week, Luciana kept up patrols and hired the occasional batch of adventurers. She had to send for approval for more commendations but with the amount of work she’d gotten through in a short time with smart application of the abilities of passing adventurers and travelers, Rivers gave it readily. Luciana also sent for a small amount of funding from her own personal bank account and handed it over to the Militia for armour and weapons, for which she received a plaque with her name and rank in the Town Hall.

“It’s not much,” she said. Tried to. “But it will help.”

“Three thousand gold!” the mayor exclaimed. “Three _thousand_ gold!”

She managed to calm him before her next patrol and left him as he was distributing it to various areas in the Militia’s equipment. He was muttering about hiring more blacksmiths when she rejoined her soldiers outside.

The ogres were a problem, one she had to hire out for, but it turned out well in the end. Their numbers thinned, the ogres once again retreated into their caves and mounds and left the people of Darkshire alone. The undead were a bigger threat, because they would not respond by retreating - they’d respond by doing exactly nothing but raising more by spreading the plague. It could, eventually, harm the local ecosystem. Luciana was not willing to let it get that far and set Oaken, Grayson, and Plains to the task. She kept Amadeus in Darkshire for a time, until she was sure the ogres had taken the message to heart, and then sent Amadeus out to join the others in nearby cemeteries and crypts.

When Winterveil rolled around, they spent it in Darkshire and celebrated with the locals. She wrote home, and wished she had access to gryphons. Flying, the trip was six hours. Horseback would take two days, depending on how the wildlife would act. But she couldn’t simply get up and leave Darkshire, or her soldiers, so she stayed. She sent out numerous letters and received many in turn, as well as promises of gifts waiting for her when she next visited the city. She was ready to get at least a few cold shoulders from her Company for keeping them away from their families on Winterveil, but was pleasantly surprised when no one was angry.

“We got people here to party with,” Victoria told her. “And anyway, my family lives here.”

“Ours don’t!” Lars said. “But they’re a good bunch. We’re having fun. And anyway, I’m up for month leave soon.” He grinned and downed another mug of eggnog.

Luciana's family was in Stormwind. She celebrated with her company and with whomever was brave enough to approach her. When she settled in for the night, for any night, she thought of Anduin. She was supposed to be with him, making him happy, keeping him safe. It was supposed to be their first Winterveil together, as officially engaged. She was supposed to be in Stormwind with him and with Varian, who would soon be her family as she became a Royal alongside them. But she wasn't able to return to be at his side. And she couldn't even promise that next year, or any other year, she'd be with him. She couldn't guarantee it, not in her position. _But I will try,_ she promised instead. She tried not to become angry over it and ruin the holiday for the rest of her soldiers. 

The new year came and went and was also spent in Darkshire with the locals, who seemed to brighten up and become more active the longer 113th stayed with them. Her father had also sent some people from the fourth branch to discuss potential fur trade with the mayor, who nearly had a heart attack when they started talking numbers. Luciana didn’t know them personally but still took the time to greet them and explain the basic situation, and also mention that she was aware of the difficulties in Duskwood but also of the potential. It had been a long, long time since Darkshire had had active trade with anyone, and it would no doubt greatly benefit them. Luciana earned a new, and bigger, plaque in Town Hall.

In late March, she planned to bring her Company back to Arathi. The undead had been nearly wipe out, though Raven Hill appeared to be cursed and could not be emptied completely. Enaeon and the other draenic healers, one shaman, one more paladin, and a priest, had organized a group of adventurers willing to stay in Darkshire for a while. Luciana had mentioned permanent residence to almost everyone she encountered passing through the area and by the time she was packing up her soldiers, there were nearly two dozen people of notable abilities willing to stay. A third of them were hunters interested in the potential fur trade, of which talks had been promising, and the rest were mostly people who could set up and maintain wards around Raven Hill to keep the undead confined and occasionally culled.

The last week of March was spent in a ship returning to Arathi, and for two weeks Rivers kept them in the garrison. He called Luciana alone to his office, and when she arrived he was brisk and to the point. “When you’re in Stormwind for your wedding,” he told her, “your squadron will be allowed to go with you if they wish, but the rest of your Company will remain under command of their respective Knights. Your wedding day was set for June tenth,” he mentioned. “May twentieth you’ll set out by ship to Stormwind. I’m told you were warned to give them more time to prepare this time?”

She smiled tightly. “Yes, Sir.”

“Prep your Company. You’ll be gone for a while.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Luciana received a message from the King two days later, which warned her that the wedding celebrations would last four to five days and the honeymoon was scheduled for almost a full two weeks in an undisclosed and heavily guarded safe location. Two weeks were the best he could do, and she was glad for it. She knew that there was little chance she and Anduin would have any real time to themselves after the fact. There were letters from Dania and Ophelia, who had apparently been conscripted to help in the preparations, and both of her brothers were in charge of keeping people from trying to raid her old bedroom for gift ideas. Which was becoming quite the problem, if their letters were anything to go by.

News of the Dark Portal hadn’t reached them in Duskwood, but the red colour had signified a preliminary attack force. Garrosh Hellscream had escaped his imprisonment in Pandaria with the aid of a bronze dragon, and had fled to Draenor - before its sundering. An alternate timeline, they said. The size of the attacking force was yet unknown because no one could enter the portal, though efforts were underway to confine the so-called Iron Horde’s scouting force. The event was worrisome and they were warned of a possible invasion.

Still, when Luciana arrived in Stormwind with her squadron, there was no sign that anyone was worried. Because, she found out, everyone had collectively gone insane.


	35. Two Weeks

Amadeus squadron could hear people screaming the moment the shoreline was visible on the horizon, which was still quite a few miles away. The sound traveled over the smooth ocean water, the ship moving thanks to a resident shaman’s efforts at creating a steady wind to fill the sails. Jillian flattened her ears and shifted to her human form in response, taking the precaution of putting in earplugs.

“Ain’t losing my ears to no fuckin’ crazy people,” she could be heard mumbling as she also put on a pair of earmuffs, and a woolen hat, and then a second woolen hat. She was debating a third when they approached the docks. 

Luciana wished she’d thought to put in ear plugs as well, because the noise deafened her. She could hardly even think past the crowds. “Wish they hadn’t told everyone,” she said to herself.

“What?” Lars called.

She shook her head at him, and motioned for the squadron to descend the boarding planks to the waiting party of Royal Guards. There were over four dozen of them, along with horses for her squadron. Enaeon summoned his Charger to ride and the crowds seemed to find that absolutely fantastic.

Luciana was almost glad to be at the Keep. She felt frazzled, twitchy, and wanted to punch the next person who approached her. Unless it was Anduin. Or Varian. Maybe she wouldn’t punch Bannister. There was a small list of people she wouldn’t punch. The rest were free game.

Thankfully the Seneschal was on the list, and the unflappable man sent her squadron with people who would set them up in the guest rooms of the Keep while they were residing in Stormwind. Even Enaeon was going to the stay in the Keep to avoid getting caught somewhere in the crowds and missing something important. Jillian holed up her in room, suffering from a migraine from the wall of noise they’d had to punch through to get to the Keep.

“I am not leaving this room until I have to,” the scout ground out.

“I will alert the City Guard,” he said smoothly. “The crowds will not linger long once they realize you will not be seen again for some time.”

“Good.”

Luciana was allowed to rest in her rooms for a while, until Anduin found her. “Luciana,” she heard him say, and then he was on the bed with her, practically falling onto her.

“Hey,” she said, leaning up on her elbows.

“Could you get up so I can hug you properly?” he asked.

“Nope. Not getting up. You’re gonna have to make do.”

“What about me?” she heard Varian asked, and she groaned.

“Fine,” she said, drawing the word out like it was a chore.

The moment she was on her feet Varian had her in a tight hug, rocking her slightly. “It’s good to see you safe, Luciana,” he said, and kissed the top of her head. He released her only for Anduin to hug her.

“Did you grow?” Varian asked when he saw the two of them together. Luciana groaned against Anduin’s shoulder.

“Don’t say that. Don’t mention it. Someone will hear you and make me grow more.”

“Why do you keep growing?” Anduin asked, pulling back enough to look at her. “I think he’s right. I think you did get another inch.”

“Ugh.”

Anduin chuckled, pulled her back against him. “Are you cursed?” he joked.

“Probably. Five years and I’ll be six and a half feet tall.”

“I don’t see how that’s an issue,” Varian chuckled.

“Yeah, says the half-Vrykul.”

“Just think - five years, we’ll get you a wig. Or you could grow your hair out. And you can pretend to be me!” Varian said.

“Why would I want to pretend to be you? You have terrible taste in hair style.”

Varian was laughing when he left the room, giving an excuse that he had some people to see about something. Luciana hardly heard him.

“I missed you,” Anduin murmured. “I saw regular updates Father gets on all military activity, so I always knew where you were, but I couldn’t write in case someone read it.”

“I know,” she said. “It’s why I didn’t write to anyone but Dania. They could send the mail by portal.”

“Could I have a kiss?” Anduin asked quietly, and Luciana kissed him softly for a moment. He sighed when he pulled away. “A real kiss. Like the first one.”

She smiled. “I think you know why I shouldn’t do that,” she said.

“Remind me?”

She pulled his head down so she could murmur in his ear. “Because you wouldn’t want me to stop as a kiss,” she said. “And I wouldn’t want to stop at all.”

His ears were reddening when she leaned back. “At least I won’t have to wait long,” he tried.

“Not long. What, two weeks?”

“Two weeks and two days,” he said.

It took her a moment. “Oh my Light,” she murmured, pulling away. “Two weeks.” Two weeks and she'd be married to the only person she knew would accept it.

“What is it?”

“You remember when I said I process things in a linear fashion? One thing at a time, tomorrow versus next week?”

“Yes?”

“I’m processing it,” she said. “Two weeks. Fuck. Two weeks.” She ran her hands through her hair, feeling giddy. She was going to be married. She'd always assumed she'd die in battle young, like a true warrior. She looked back at him, grinning like a loon. “Two weeks.” Berserkers didn't live long. They didn't get married, especially not to sweet young priests with soft hands and the sky in his eyes.

He started to smile in response. “Are you excited?”

“I’m going to die,” she replied, turning back around. “Two weeks. How the hell am I going to manage this. Two weeks."

“Seriously, Lucy,” he said, gently taking her hands out of her hair. It was shaggier than it should have been and she mentally scolded herself for not getting it cut before returning. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” she said calmly. “Just fine. Two weeks. Fucking Light.”

She unpacked her things while Anduin watched in bemusement. Someone had brought most of her clothes and some personal items from the manor to her new permanent residence and Luciana sorted through it, putting everything away where it would belong. She didn't pay attention to any of it and knew she'd pay for it later when she couldn't find any of her socks.

“Two weeks,” she muttered, and heard Anduin chuckle from her bed.

“Two weeks,” he repeated.

She turned and looked at him. “I’m going to be married to you in two weeks,” she said. Married at twenty-one to a nineteen year old Prince who made sure the kitchens sent spearmint sprigs with every meal. Married into the Royal House so that she could protect its son and his happiness. Married to Anduin, who smiled when she accepted his affection with a head bowed in shame for her violence and rough hands.

“Yes, you are.” At least he was smiling.

“I’m going to marry the son of the most terrifying man I know.” Married to the son of _Varian Wrynn._ Married to his son and therefore his daughter. Daughter to one of the greatest warriors in the Eastern Kingdoms.

“Yes, you are.”

“I’m going to be a Princess.” Princess to her people, for whose safety she would be responsible. She would have to rule them well, because anything she did would affect Anduin, and he loved his people.

“Yes, you are.”

“Two weeks.” She was going to be married to Anduin in two weeks. The sweet boy who had just wanted a friend and ended up in a relationship where he'd have to bed a fury warrior branded with the marks of war.

Anduin let her go for a while longer, and then distracted her with food he had had brought up for her. “I thought you might need something,” he said. “You don’t always eat well on ships.” Married to Anduin, who took care of her despite it being her duty to take care of him.

“Not always.” She sat down with him at the table. He was too sweet to her. She was sure she didn't deserve it, but it made him happy when she let him be sweet to her. She appreciated his care. “You hear anything about the squadron?” she asked.

“They’re settling in nicely. They chose to partner up for rooming.” He watched her eat, blue eyes wide and unconcerned. Most wouldn't be so open and carefree around her, least of all because of her strength. Her scars spoke of battle-lust. Her face was mangled with it. He didn't seem to care.

“Yeah, they would,” she said. “Rooms over there are massive. Too big to sleep alone when you’ve been with eight other people for so long.”

“You seem to have adjusted just fine.”

“Well, I have my own partner,” she said, gesturing at him. “You’re nineteen now.”

“You’re twenty-one now.”

“Belated happy birthday.”

“And to you as well.”

She grinned again past a mouthful of rice but made sure to chew and swallow it before speaking. “Two weeks.” In two weeks she'd be married to Anduin, the sweet boy. She would be able, without fear or apprehension, to see how her hands looked on his dark skin. Compare the tan colour of her fingers against his skin when they dug into the warm darkness of his thigh. A shiver ran the length of her spine. Uninhibited touch: physicality, her native tongue, showing him what she couldn't seem to say, what she could hardly acknowledge to herself. Oh, she could imagine it, the shy blush on his cheeks spreading to his chest, over his thighs, the thick heat of him sliding in... She blinked, returned herself to the present, and kept eating. She'd imagined it many times before and had waited for it long enough. A couple of weeks more wouldn't make such a difference.

“Yes.” He obviously found some amusement in her delayed processing of events, but kept her from getting too lost in it. “I thought you should know,” he said hesitantly. “I don’t have much... any experience. In, ah, certain areas.” The blush, she imagined, would be a deep red, warming his skin further. She'd chase it with her mouth.

“Just say it,” she said, gathering a bite of salad. He was shy, and she didn't want it to spread into shame. No, there shouldn't be any shame on his face. Happiness and safety, she'd promised. That meant from her, too.

“I don’t have... experience... in the bedroom?” he tried slowly, and she gave him a flat look.

“You’re a virgin,” she said frankly.

“You don’t have to be so blunt!”

“You don’t have to beat around the bush with me, Anduin,” she said, taking a bite of steak. “You really don’t. If you want to you can, but I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me about these things. It’s really important that we’re comfortable enough to do that because otherwise one of us could be hurt. And I really don’t want to hurt you.” Oh, Light, if she hurt him she'd hurl herself naked into orcish cavalry and scream until the wolves killed her.

He wet his lips. “Alright,” he said evenly. “I’m a virgin. I don’t have any experience... with sex.”

“Okay. So when the time comes, we’ll take it slow,” she promised. No shame, not from him, not because of her. “If you want, I can take the lead and you can tell me what you do or don’t like. And we’ll go from there.” She had experience in a lot of things that he had never been through. She'd use everything she had for him to ease his way.

“That sounds good.” He smiled hesitantly, soft, but it was a good smile.

“Good.” She offered her own lopsided smile in return, unsure, but the scars dragging it down didn't seem to bother Anduin.

“It’s not like I had time with Father always breathing down my neck,” he grumbled, and she laughed.

“Wishing you’d snuck out more often?” she said, grinning cheekily. “Maybe slipped something into his drink and brought home a pretty little thing? Or a pretty big thing,” she shrugged. “Whatever you like.”

There was a bit of pink in his cheeks. “I’m not naive,” he grumbled. “I know how everything works. I just... didn’t have time or opportunity. There’s not many people my age around here that I could get close to.”

“I know,” she soothed, taking his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I wouldn’t have either if I didn’t join the army,” she said. It was probably a lie, because her blood ran hot wherever she was, but it was meant to sooth him and it seemed to work. They weren't so different, she wanted him to know. She knew the drill when it came to nobility.

“Maybe I should have joined,” he mused, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“Your father would have transcended mortal bonds to have a heart attack in the Nether,” she said. “I think it’s best you didn’t.”

She finished eating while Anduin was laughing, and then she was sorely tempted to ignore convention and give the kiss he’d obviously been wanting since the first one because she'd been thinking about it while she ate and she could almost feel his length slipping inside her. Her pulse pounded in her crotch and when she shifted in her seat she could feel her own wetness, liquid hot. She wanted to kiss him. And then more. But she didn’t, mostly because Dechaine banged her bedroom door open.

“Up!” she demanded, and four handmaidens swarmed into the room. “Prince, with all respect,” she started.

“I’m going,” he said, beating a hasty retreat. “I’ll tell you the plans after,” he promised Luciana, who nodded and waved him away.

The handmaidens dragged Luciana into the washroom, which was good because she was probably sopping wet from her daydreams. They worked with minimal pinching but took their time undressing her, giggling all the while. She let them, watching in amusement as they argued over who got to scrub her shoulders and back.

She was scrubbed raw in lukewarm water, not too hot and enough to soothe her blood a bit, and then cold cream was applied to every inch she let them touch - and really, she wasn’t particularly embarrassed or shameful, and let the girls have their way. They delivered her fresh and perfumed to Dechaine, who had her tailors immediately start measuring everything they could.

“We are going to make you shine,” Dechaine promised. “Dress or suit?”

“Suit.”

“Colours? Blue? White? Gold? Cream? Red? Silver? Green? Purple?”

“White,” she said. “A bit of blue.”

“Jewelry? Necklaces? Bracelets? Rings? Piercings?”

“No piercings. Ear cuffs are good. Rings, no bracelets. Brooches.”

“Coat and cummerbund or vest and blazer?”

“Coat.”

“Bowtie?”

“Only if it's necessary.”

“Hat?”

“Something like my parade cap.”

“Boots or shoes?”

“Boots.”

“Ankle? Calf? Knee? Thigh? Hip?”

“Knee.”

“Tied or studded?”

“Studded, unless you want a really nice tied pair.”

“Pants? Tight, loose, in between? Tight,” she answered for her. “Sash?”

“Yes.”

“Sword?”

“Mine.”

“It has a name?”

“Oathkeeper.”

“New belt.” She snapped her fingers and an assistant rushed off with the sword, still sheathed and looped on its owl belt. “And sheath.”

“The sheath stays.”

“Polish the sheath.”

Dechaine apparently had some ideas, because she sent Luciana off to the Estrang brothers. They had set up shop around her closet. Someone had brought in a vanity with a wide, tall mirror and uncountable drawers. “Hello again,” David crooned, hands going straight for her hair. “Mm, it’s longer. Perfect!”

“Still want the scars?” Hector asked.

“Yes.”

“Did you like the undercut?” David asked.

“Yes.”

“A bit of colour this time?” Hector asked. “We’ll try a few looks.”

David started trimming her hair into a decent style while Hector held up several palettes of potential combinations to her face. The entire affair had effectively distracted her from her thoughts of Anduin lying prone beneath her. “You have such soft hair,” David praised. “How about an angular fringe? A small one. Undercut fade, like last time, but with a bit of...” He swept her hair to the front at a slight angle.

“It’s in my face,” she said.

“Ugh.” David rolled his eyes and rearranged her hair so it wasn’t in her face, merely framing her forehead. “Better?”

“That’s fine.”

“One day you’ll let me have fun,” he grumbled.

“One day I’ll shave my head and be done with it.”

He gasped. “No! You will not do that.”

“Fine, fine.”

Hector tried putting a bit of colour on her eyelids but she didn’t like it, felt that it was too off from her norm. “I’m going in there as Lady Knight Luciana,” she reminded them. “I want to look it.”

“Alright,” Hector said, undaunted, and instead of the soft blue he’d originally chosen he wiped the makeup from her eyes with care and tried natural colours, lining her eyes and applying something to her eyelashes. He practically attacked her eyebrows, plucking a few stray strands and shaping the rest. When he stepped back her eyes were lined with a thin, light application of silvery kohl, her eyelashes were thicker, and her eyelids had a bit of dark grey to compliment the corners and the kohl.

“That’s... alright,” she said. “I’m going to have to remind myself not to touch my eyes.”

“Are you going to cry?” Hector said. “I have waterproofer. Six hours, eight, and twelve.”

“Probably?”

“Aw, that’s so sweet,” David said. “How’s this?” He had trimmed her hair a bit more and it looked better shorter.

“It’s a bit messy.”

“I’ll fix that right up!”

She was glad this was only a preliminary prep stage, because she was stressed enough without having to shove all of the preparations into a few days. When the Estrang brothers were done with her, Hector promised to find his waterproofing spray which sounded mildly sinister. She wiped her face clean and washed the product that David had experimented with out of her hair. Anduin had probably already gone through this part.

She was alerted by a friendly guard that her squadron was about to have lunch in a guest room that had been set up as a communal area for them all, and Anduin and Varian were going to eat soon in the Royal wing. “I’ll have lunch with my troops,” she sighed, towel still in her hands. It would be better to check up on them and make sure they were behaving. “I’ll have dinner with Anduin and Varian.”

“I’ll let them know.”


	36. Preparations

The soldiers were glad to see her. “This place is massive,” Lawrence said when she walked in. “Lt, you live here?”

“For the most part,” she replied, sitting at the large round table between Lawrence and Enaeon. The draenei barely fit in the reinforced chair they’d found for him. “You get used to it.”

“And you got a nice little Prince to warm your bed,” Lars said.

“We have separate rooms,” she said blandly. “We will until after the ceremony.”

“You must be disappointed,” Kain grinned. Luciana heaved a long-suffering sigh and there was a comforting round of laughter that went around. “So,” he said. “You’re gonna be the Princess.”

“I prefer Lady Knight, if you don’t mind.”

“Yeah, we know. But like. Our Lt is a princess.”

She rolled her eyes. “Not yet,” she said. “And I’m still going to ride all your asses and make you run suicides.”

“No!” Lars gasped. “Please, no!”

“They ain’t that bad,” Jillian grumbled. She had chosen to remain in human form, as her ears were less sensitive.

“That’s because you’re on all fours,” Lawrence interjected.

“Yeah, unfair advantage! Luce, you should make her run them more!”

Luciana was almost thankful when the food arrived. She received double portions, as did Enaeon. She didn’t feel hungry, but she knew it was only from nerves and ate as much as she could.

“So,” Victoria asked, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “How you feeling, Lt? My brother about pissed himself every time he heard the word marriage or bride for about a month before he got hitched.”

“I feel fine,” she said. “Well, a bit nervous." She paused. "Two weeks.” Her stomach felt funny, light, like it was full of air.

“They didn’t give you much warning, eh?” Kain joked.

“Well once the betrothal was firmed it was kind of obvious it would happen,” Victoria interjected.

“And then after the confirmation I knew it was going to be soon. Early June sometime. And now it’s happening.” Her voice had gone up at the end and Enaeon lay a comforting heavy hand on her shoulder. Married. To _Anduin_ , the stupid sweet boy who tried to get close to a berserker with battle fatigue before he'd even guaranteed her cooperation in his continued safety. Oh, a fool boy he was, but she wanted him all the same.

“You will be fine,” he soothed. “You have faced down death many times before.”

“Is that what it’s going to feel like?” she demanded. “I want a fucking refund. Where’s my receipt?”

Another round of laughter went about. After the meal the group scattered a bit through the room. The bed had been moved to a corner, too big to fit through the door, and couches had been settled in its place. Lawrence went to the bed to nap and Christopher and Lars tried to play a heavily modified game of chess that they lost track of, and had to restart twice.

“Are you seriously okay?” Victoria asked, sitting next to Luciana on the couch. Victoria was short, stocky and thick, and she had a belly on her, but she was also nearly as strong as Enaeon and could shift the cannons she shot with near ease. “You look kinda out of it.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted weakly. “Just nervous. A bit.”

“A lot.”

“Yeah.” She sighed shakily. “Our King is a scary motherfucker, Vic, and he’s going to be my in-law in two weeks. You know how protective he is of the Prince?”

“Everyone does.”

“Yes, but do you realize what that means?”

Victoria was a smart lady. She picked up on the trail end of what Luciana was trying to say. “He picked you out for the Prince specifically?” she said slowly.

“He told me the Prince had a crush on me or something when he saw me in court a few years ago.”

Victoria’s eyes widened and it would have been funny if she hadn’t paled. “Holy shit,” she muttered. “Are you serious? Are you telling me what I think you’re telling me?”

“He’s a master of the Game,” Luciana said quietly. “Hush, would you? This doesn’t need to get out.”

“Are you okay with this?” Victoria hissed. “You actually doing this voluntarily? ‘Cause let me tell me, I will blow this place to shit if you ain’t.”

Luciana took a second to appreciate Victoria’s concern. “Yes,” she whispered. “I’m in this voluntarily. Really. Do not blow up the Keep, I live here.”

“You sure? Because that’s just fucking creepy. Man, you nobles are something else.”

Luciana bit back a laugh. Oh, if only she knew how far Varian was really willing to go to tie her to Anduin, to turn her into his shield and sword. “Yeah, I know. I swear to you, Vic, I’m not being held hostage or forced to marry. I just find it really incredible and very frightening the lengths that man is willing to go to for his son.”

“You know he did the human equivalent of walking his kid into a candy shop and saying, that one? That’s the one you want? Okay I will get it for you. No problem. Here you go.” Victoria shook her head slowly. “Y’all are fucked up.”

“A bit.” Luciana smiled. “So are all of you.”

“Yeah.” Vic grinned happily. “So, you and the Prince haven’t done any caboodling yet, eh?”

“No.”

“Wish you had?”

Luciana sighed. “I’m supposed to say no.”

“But really?”

She glared at Vic and the woman chuckled. “Alright, alright. You like him, yeah? Seems like a sweet kid. Watch out for the teeth. Sweet kids always bite.”

“He is a Royal,” she murmured, still keeping her voice down. Victoria, thankfully, did the same. “He uses his naive appearance to fool people. They underestimate him. Makes it easier to take them down.”

“That’s what I meant,” Victoria said. “Anyway. You like him, he likes you?”

“Yes?”

“How big is he?”

Luciana froze for a second. “What?” she asked, confused. “How big... Tall?”

“No,” Victoria said slowly, grinning. “How big is he?”

Luciana stared at her for a moment, lost. She’d already said they hadn’t slept together. “I wouldn’t know,” she said. “I already told you we haven’t...” For once, her mind hadn't immediately gone to the most perverted, sexual thing she could think of. Which was usually very sexual.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you haven’t done other stuff.”

“You should stop talking about the Prince’s dick.”

“Are you getting possessive?”

“I will if you keep talking about it.” She didn't need to be reminded of the way a cock felt inside her, especially not when she'd spent so much time over the past tour thinking about Anduin when she couldn't sleep at night.

“Aw, you’re no fun.”

Luciana spent her time with her squadron, though she should have been reviewing last-minute details. She felt it was time well spent, as she felt much better afterward and her soldiers seemed to be more comfortable in their temporary quarters.

She asked a guard if the royal wing of the kitchens had any unexpected visitors, just in case, and thankfully she replied that it was only the King and the Prince, and that Luciana was expected. When Luciana was about to enter the kitchen, Varian and Anduin were speaking in low tones. She could hear them, barely catching some of their words. Varian seemed to be briefing Anduin on what to expect on his wedding night.

Luciana turned around and took a short walk around the royal wing, giving them a few minutes to _stop talking about her vagina_. It was a _little strange_ to hear them talking about _her vagina_. She gave them some time before she returned because she had heard Varian mention vaginal muscles and it made her _a little uncomfortable._ Normally she would have taken it in stride but coming from Varian it was a _little odd_.

When she returned they were talking about decorations, which she considered a fair bit safer, and when she opened the door they both hushed.

“Hi,” she said, freezing in the doorway when they both turned to look at her. “Something on my face?”

Anduin choked back a laugh and Varian gave him an odd look. Luciana sat between them and Varian slowly shifted his concerned gaze to her. “How are your soldiers settling in?” he asked.

“Just fine. They’re not used to such large rooms but they’re adjusting.”

“I heard they went two to a room,” he said.

“Yeah. We’re used to sleeping nine in a room, and I understand it can feel a bit odd to sleep alone in such a wide space.”

“Alright. As long as they’re settling in.”

Food was brought out soon after Luciana arrived and again, she felt too nervous to be hungry. “So,” she asked. “What are the final plans?”

“The ceremony will be held outside the Keep in the morning,” Varian started. “You’ll come up with your brothers and Anduin will come up with me. We’ll switch, have some pretty words and let people cheer and generally be happy. Then we’ll move a procession of family and friends, heroes, courtiers, and some random citizens who won some draw your aunt set up, into the Cathedral for the blessings and the actual marriage. There will be a contest for best wedding picture and you can bet half of them will be different shots of the kiss. You’ll both have a mounted walk around the districts-" she really did try very hard not to think of mounting Anduin like a prize stallion - "starting in the Old Town and moving counter-clockwise around the map. There will be a brief visit to the old barracks and the ruins of the park, to pay respects. In Trade you’ll split up, and Anduin and your brothers will head to the cemetery while you and I continue on to the Valley of Heroes. They’ve already set up a fence so no one will get drunk and fall into the water.”

“I was just about to bring that up,” Luciana said. “It might still happen.”

Varian shrugged. “They’ll get fished out, one way or another.”

The Valley was a popular fishing spot, and Luciana chuckled at the bad joke while Anduin looked mildly affronted. “That was terrible, Father,” he said. “Really?”

“Yes.” Varian was completely unapologetic.

Luciana had to bite the inside of her cheek against a sudden flush of emotion. It came from a volatile place and she was too used to suppressing it to let it flourish fully. But... These two were her family. Two weeks. Anduin was going to be her husband. She wasn't supposed to have these nice things, and yet here they were, about to marry her to Anduin by Varian's will. She had to force herself to keep eating to cover the lapse, but Varian still gave her an odd look. She shrugged it off, and he must have simply chalked it up to pre-wedding nerves.

“So, midnight after the celebrations,” Varian continued over the second course. “SI:7 will come and fetch you, discretely. You’ll still get some bawdy jokes. You’ll meet your agents beforehand so there’s no confusion. You’ll be brought with a group of agents, no guards - too flashy - to the location.”

“The location?” Luciana prompted.

“The location,” Varian repeated. “You won’t find out where it is until you’re brought there. I’ve picked out five places, and depending on how things go we’ll use one of them.”

“Makes sense,” Luciana nodded.

“Seems a bit overmuch,” Anduin said. “Especially with the number of guards you’ve set up.”

“Can’t be too cautious,” Varian said. “You two are the only heirs. I’m not getting younger. This would be the perfect chance to strike. Both of you will be distracted,” he said, emphasizing the last word. “And out in the open. All it would take is a small, elite strike team, and the entire Alliance is thrown into disarray and panic.”

“Let’s avoid that,” Anduin said with a grimace.

“Let’s,” Luciana agreed. Bad enough that she was already in complete disarray. The only reason she wasn't again thinking of how Anduin's sweat-slicked skin would taste under her mouth was because Varian's sharp eyes were on her.

The first week seemed to pass in a blur of activity and decisions. When Luciana reached halfway through the second week, she felt as though the first had been a relaxed vacation. She was passed around from Estrang to Dechaine to Varian to Talia and back around.

Finally, two days before the wedding, Luciana’s outfit was ready. David trimmed her hair to however it had been before, and then she was scrubbed down and washed and slathered in skin cream by no less than six handmaidens. They were a bit less handsy, but full of giggles and dirty jokes.

They dried her off and sent her out to Lady Dechaine, who was waiting with her arms crossed sternly over her chest. “You gave us enough time to prepare this time,” she said in way of greeting. “Keep doing that and we’ll keep performing miracles.”

Luciana was dressed first in underclothes, with a stretchy breast band that was just the right tightness around her chest. Following that was a set of white leggings that she was convinced wouldn’t actually fit over her legs, but when the assistants pulled them up they fit like a glove. They were tight, but supportive, and showed off her legs thick with muscle. 

Over those she was giving a pair of padded wool socks, and then the boots were slipped on and tightened. True to her word, Lady Dechaine had found a beautiful pair of sturdy military-style boots that laced up the front. They were stiff around the foot and leg but had enough give around the ankle to be comfortable, and the soles were formed to the arches of Luciana’s feet and felt like she could walk in them for days. The boots were decorated with silver thread in fanciful patterns, with the Stormwind lion on the backs of her calves.

They had her pull on a collared shirt that buttoned from the chest up. It had enough stretch to fit well over her abdomen without leaving any bagginess at the sides, and the sleeves were three-quarter, leaving her wrists bare. The shirt was also decorated with silver thread around the bottom edge and the buttons, up her sides and down the sleeves. The patterns matched the ones on her boots. She wondered at the colour of it all. The last time she’d worn white, it had been for a funeral. Now it was going to be for a marriage. A new beginning, one that you were supposed to enter with some blank space for your partner to enter your life. There would definitely be time and space enough for Anduin to enter her.

The assistants tightened a silver cummerbund around her waist and adjusted her shirt, giving her a silver bowtie that one man tied with expertise and a flourish. He folded down the little corners of her collar, and someone brought out the coat.

It was white and double-breasted, each button a lion’s head made of silver. Between the corresponding buttons, thin silver chains hung glittering. The coat had white cloth pauldrons, decorated with silver thread in the same style as the shirt and boots, from which small silver tassels hung. More silver chains traveled the space between the short, stiff collar and the pauldrons, and then the pauldrons and the top buttons. The collar had two silver wolf heads that gripped the chains in their mouths. The sleeves were formed well to her arms, leaving enough space around the shoulders and elbows without giving any bagginess to the rest. The ends of the sleeves were solid silver with the same fanciful patterns traveled up and away, like smoke. The bottom edge of the coat was also solid silver, but ended abruptly to leave only an expanse of stark white.

“You like it?” Dechaine asked.

“It’s perfect.” Her mouth was dry. Anduin would look at her and see a true Knight, one who was worthy to stand at his side. She wasn't sure he'd be able to see the warrior underneath it. Maybe he would. Maybe those ridiculously blue eyes of his would actually see what Varian had told her they could see, so long ago.

“Of course it is.”

The coat was taken away, a great cloth was tossed over her clothes to protect them, and she was handed off to David and Hector.

Her hair was brushed through, tamed, and styled. While David was working some product into it with his fingers, Hector took out his tools. “Hold still,” the man said, and went to town on her face and eyes.

“Okay,” David said, and she opened her eyes to see her reflection. Her face had an even, soft skin tone, but her scars were left bare as she’d consistently requested. Her lips had a bit more colour and looked fuller than she recalled, and her eyebrows had been plucked and shaped. Her eyes were rimmed in thin silver lines of kohl with some silver brushed into the corners of her eyelids and a bit of dark gray over her eyes, just visible when they were open.

“It frames your eyes,” Hector said. “You have the loveliest pair of grey eyes I’ve ever seen. Or are they blue?.”

“Thank you,” she said, not bothering to answer his question. Her hair was a good length for her - long enough to style, but not long enough to get in her eyes. She gave it an experimental flip, and heard giggling somewhere behind her. The handmaidens had crept back into sight to see the finished product. Apparently they were satisfied with the soft, somewhat messy style David had given her.

“You like it?” David asked.

“Yes, I do.”

“Good!”

She was shoved out of the chair, the smock taken away, and the tailoring assistants once again dressed her in the coat. When she stood in front of the floor-length mirror they’d brought in, she looked herself over carefully. What would Anduin think of her outfit? What part would he enjoy most? She half-turned, and smirked. He’d enjoy the pants most.

“You look every inch a Princess,” Hector said. “And every bit a Knight.”

“And every bit a bride-to-be,” David added, giving his twin an elbow in the ribs.

“Hey!”

The two bickered quietly while Dechaine came up behind Luciana to inspect her. “I think the brothers outdid themselves,” she said. “You were a challenge for them, Hector especially. He found a good look for you.”

“Thank you.”

“Nervous for the wedding?”

“A bit, yes.”

“That’s how you’re supposed to feel.” Dechaine gave her a pat on the shoulder. “Hat!”

A cap was placed over her hair, which was delicately brushed away from her forehead. It resembled her parade uniform hat, but the entirety of it was white except for a silver ribbon around the bottom and the Amadeus crest made of wrought silver, polished to a shine, that sat in the center of the front.

“Undress her!” Dechaine gave her a few moments before calling out her order, and Luciana stood still as the clothes were removed. “Hand wash it all, carefully, and store it for the morning of the wedding. Wash her face off.”

Someone carefully wiped her face with a hot wet towel that smelled faintly of silverleaf, and soon she was left naked again in the room. It took only a moment for them to redress her in what she’d been wearing before - casual pants and her favourite cream shirt - and then she was left to her own devices. Several people pat her back or shoulder as the room cleared out and Luciana was briefly stunned into silence at the sheer swiftness they’d all displayed.

She shook herself out and returned to her bedroom to collapse on the bed. She felt exhausted from a strange mix of exhilaration, anxiety, and a number of other things. She’d barely had time to sit down and eat dinner most nights with Anduin, sometimes Varian. Her squadron was, thankfully, steering clear of certain subjects while they entertained her during lunch, and sometimes through the afternoon. They, at least, were having a good vacation.


	37. Today's the Day

A guard opened Luciana’s bedroom door. “Lord Bannister here to see you,” he said.

“Let him in.”

Her brother had brought with him her new dog, over a year old now and fully-grown. She was energetic, happy to see Luciana, and curiously sniffing at everything. “Hey, sister,” Bannister greeted, sitting on her bed. The dog jumped up, snuffled her hair and sneezed. Bannister’s hand landed on her back. “Tired?” he said jokingly.

She groaned as the dog tried to nose its way under her arm, and rolled herself onto her side so the dog would stop sniffing at her armpit. She made several incoherent noises at the dog in weak protest and Bannister laughed, pulling the dog back to spare Luciana the torment. “Hey Bann,” she sighed, settling on her back. “Yeah, I’m tired. I’m exhausted.” She looked at him. “I’m getting married. Before you. I thought at least Desmond would go first. But no!”

Bannister chuckled, petting the dog’s head to try and calm her. “Hey,” he said. “Look at it this way. You finally get to... ah, share with the Prince.”

Luciana tried to kick Bannister’s hip but he dodged, laughing. “Don’t talk about my groom-to-be you dirty old man.”

“I’m not old!” he said indignantly.

“You’re twenty-seven!” she cried. “Find a husband! Or a wife! Or both!”

Now it was Bannister’s turn to sputter out noises of protest. “Luciana!” he finally managed to say, aghast. “You-! That...!”

“I’ll find them for you! You want Christopher? I’ll go get him!”

“No!” He reached out to grab her when she made to get off the bed and they wrestled on the mattress, the dog barking and jumping around them. She felt the little nips of the dog's teeth a few times, and paid it no mind. Luciana won, but she let Bannister have a few moments where he thought he might be victorious. “That was once!” Bannister said, breathing hard. Luciana had him pinned down, held him for a moment, and released him with a smile.

“Was it? I’ll go find someone else, then. Maybe you’d like Kain.”

“Oh my Light,” Bannister groaned, flopping onto the bed. “You’re horrible. You’re worse than Mother.”

Lucian grinned. “I can be. Seriously, though, you haven’t found anyone you like? Not even considered?”

“I don’t want to marry,” he sighed. “I don’t want a relationship. Not right now.”

“Any reason why? Did you really actually like Chris?”

“No, it’s not that,” he sighed. “I just... It’s not interesting to me.”

“Alright.” Luciana shrugged. “But you have to babysit.”

“Are you pregnant?” he said, sitting up. “I thought you said you and the Prince hadn’t...”

“Do I look like I’m pregnant?” she said flatly, lifting up her shirt to reveal her stomach. “I can’t even get pregnant like this. I’d have to put on about twenty-five to thirty pounds of fat.”

“I suppose?” Bannister half-asked. “I didn’t think of that.”

“I don’t even ovulate,” she said, shrugging and letting her shirt fall. “It would take some work and a lot of laying around for me to bring it to term.”

His brow was furrowed. “Then why did they stick with you? No offense,” he added. “You’re wonderful. I would know. But isn’t half the point of finding a wife for the Prince to produce an heir to the throne?”

“I can produce one,” she said. “I was also chosen because I’m a warrior and a strategist.” And strong enough to protect Anduin, she thought. Strong enough to gain Varian's approval for his only child.

“Yeah, I suppose,” he said. “They could always find him a mistress.”

“Or me one,” she added with a cheeky smile.

Her brother left her with the dog, which she mentally named Shauna, and she rested for a short time while the dog sniffed everything in the room it could reach. It wasn’t as tall as Penny, but was more energetic and every bit as curious and intelligent. Luciana made a kissing noise and its head perked out, rose ears sticking out slightly. She patted the bed and with a leap, the dog was up. “Hello, Shauna,” she greeted quietly. The dog’s overcoat was rough and wiry but her head was softer than satin and Luciana rubbed it gently, playing with her ears. The dog huffed, groaned, and leaned its head to the side when Luciana rubbed inside its ears. “Itchy ears?” she asked, smiling.

Shauna settled down next to her, half-laying on Luciana and then sliding down to lie on the bed as close to the human as she could possible manage. When Luciana got up and stretched, she watched as the dog arched its back, and then looked at the ceiling to stretch its neck. “Cute,” Luciana muttered, giving its head another rub. Its crooked tail wagged slowly, brushing over the bed.

Luciana slept fitfully that night. She woke in the early morning with the image of her hands around Anduin's throat, shaking him against a stone floor, burned into her mind. She pet Shauna and it helped, a little. The day after was spent almost entirely with her aunt. They went over the schedule in detail, reviewed everything that was going to happen in the ceremony - and after.

“I don’t know where you’ll end up,” her aunt said, shifting in her seat. “Is there... ah, anything you’d like to talk about?”

“No,” Luciana said distractedly, still looking over the written schedule. “Why?”

“Well,” Talia said. “You’ll be with the Prince, and...”

“Aunty, you know I’ve had sex before, right?”

Talia seemed mildly shocked. “When?” she asked. “Not at the Academy?”

“A few times at the Academy,” she said. “Lovely girl in my year named Alice. Yvonne, too. Boy named Merand, a year above me. Evan, same year. One of the combat instructors, one of the warrior trainers. And then a bit in the first two tours, with one of mine and a few outside the squadron. One in the medical corps. Nothing recent, certainly nothing after the betrothal was firmed. Well, except for a very sloppy congratulatory kiss from a 7th Brigade soldier during my promotion ceremony.”

“Oh. Well, alright. You've... slept with a man, right? I think I heard a man's name in there.”

“Yes, and that’s also who I was sleeping with from my squad.”

“Oh. Well, good. Alright.” Talia nodded once. “So you don’t have any concerns? Or questions?”

“Nope. Thank you, though. I appreciate the effort.”

“Certainly. What about... ah, anti-contraception?”

“Well, considering I don’t ovulate because my body fat percentage is much too low, I’m not really worried.”

“Ah.”

“When the time comes it’ll likely take constant care from a team of healers to see it to term,” Luciana continued. “I’m not overly worried.”

“Okay. Good.” Talia nodded once, firmly, and then quickly moved on to the food menu.

Luciana felt as though she’d hardly slept when she was woken in the early morning by a handmaiden. “Today’s the day,” the girl sang, and Luciana’s stomach dropped. This, she wasn't allowed to mess up. She was not allowed to fail this, not when it could hurt Anduin.

“I know,” she groaned, and the handmaiden laughed as she dragged Luciana over to the prep room.

Luciana was hardly aware of the time passing while everyone from handmaidens to an SI:7 agent helped her prepare. The agent, a young man named Thalien, would be the one to fetch her at midnight. He seemed unflappable, mildly amused at everything, and watchful. “It’s an honour, Lady Knight,” he said, bowing his head to her in respect.

At quarter past eight Luciana was allowed to eat a hurried breakfast with the smock over her to prevent any unfortunate mishaps, and then she was unceremoniously dumped into a waiting room with a handful of comfortable armchairs, a table, and a vanity. She sat, stood, paced, sat, and then paced more. She sat on the arm of a chair, paced, stood in the center of the room, and then the door opened to admit her aunt.

“You look incredible,” Talia said immediately, smiling widely and holding Luciana’s forearms apart so she could see the coat. “Look at you. Tall, strong, proud. Exactly as you should be. That is a nice coat, by the way.”

“Thank you.”

Talia sniffed wetly, wiping at her eyes. “I’m proud of you, Luce,” she said quietly. “I know things haven’t been easy for you, but you’ve come a long way. Sometimes I feel as though I’m looking at an old woman when see you, but you look so much happier now. Are you happy? Is this what you want?”

“Yes,” Luciana said, offering Talia a tissue. “I am happy. And this is what I want. Very much so.” She'd sworn to his safety, to his happiness, already. She'd made an oath to his sleeping form, stupid enough to lie prone next to her, that she would always come home to him. This was her place, now, had been for a while. It was her job today to ensure that he knew it, felt it, was sure of it. She would not fail.

“Good. Because you know I’d have someone killed for you. Several someones. Important ones, too.”

“I know,” Luciana said with a smile. “Let’s not do that.”

Talia soon excused herself, and was replaced by Bannister and Desmond. Both were mostly silent, both hugged her with care for the silver chains on her coat, and Desmond started to cry openly. “My sister’s getting married!” he blubbered while Bannister held him with a fond and only mildly exasperated smile. “How am I supposed to feel?”

It lightened her a bit to see him so emotional. “You’re acting like you’re never going to see me again,” she said, dabbing at her own eyes with care to the makeup. Even though it had been applied with twelve-hour water-proofer, which she still found a bit sinister, she felt as though it would be ruined the moment she blinked too hard. 

“We don’t see you anyway,” Desmond sniffed, going to hug her carefully again. “Why are you so tall?” he demanded.

“I don’t know! I keep growing!”

“Ugh!”

Luciana laughed while he tried to measure his height against hers. “You’re the same height!” Bannister said.

“I’m an inch shorter, maybe,” Luciana joked. “How tall are you?”

“Six, even.”

“I’m probably five-eleven now. So, yeah. One inch.”

“That’s just weird. I mean, no other woman in our family is so tall and our parents aren’t exactly giants,” Desmond wondered. Luciana shrugged it off - she knew now that it was because her body had grown to fit her fury - and let them leave when Varian entered. The two fell quiet when they realized who had opened the door, bowed at the waist, and left in silence.

“Nice boys,” Varian commented lightly, and Luciana snorted.

“You don’t know them.”

He smiled softly at her. “You’re pretty nervous,” he said, gently placing his hands on her shoulders.

“I’ll be fine,” she said. “It’s not like I don’t have reason to be. But I’ll manage.”

‘You’re supposed to be nervous,” Varian said. “It means you care about what’s going to happen.”

She nodded slowly, regulating her breathing.

“Be gentle with him, would you?” Varian said with a grin. “He’s a virgin, you know, never really had a chance to...”

“I know!” she interrupted. “I know. Light's ass, why does everyone want to talk about this.”

Varian laughed, pulled her forward to gently kiss her forehead. “Because we care,” he said, letting her go. She sat on the arm of a chair, and he leaned against the chair opposite her. “I want to make sure neither of you will get hurt.”

“I wouldn’t hurt him,” she said. “You know that.”

“I do.” He nodded. “But it’s not always intentional. He’ll be nervous, probably quite uncomfortable. He’s attracted to you but I’ve had... open discussions with him,” Varian said. “He’s the kind to worry about everything. Go easy on him.”

“I will,” she said quietly. “Twelve days, you said?”

“I extended it to two weeks. The celebrations will last three days and after that your squadron will be shipped back to Arathi. When your honeymoon is over you’ll be sent to join them.”

“Alright.”

“I’ll pull you back every six to eight weeks so Anduin can spend some time with you,” Varian continued. He had decided to dress in full armour for the occasion, and the metal plates and chain mail were polished to a shine, reworked to look like new, and appropriately decorated. Shalamayne, his legendary weapon, hung at his hip with a custom harness. It seemed to glow softly with its own light. “Don’t get killed out there, Luciana.”

“I won’t.” She took a deep breath, looked at the small fire flickering in the hearth. “I named my sword Oathkeeper,” she said quietly, “because I made a promise. He was asleep, but I did it anyway.”

“What was it?” Varian asked.

“I will always return home to him,” she answered.

“That’s a good name,” Varian said. Luciana hummed in agreement. Varian already knew she was dedicated to Anduin's safety and happiness. Now he knew that she was dedicated to him in entirety.

At nine o’clock, the Cathedral bells could be heard tolling, and the city slowly woke with a roar of noise. Varian grinned suddenly, his canine teeth sharp and pointed. “Ready?” he asked her.

“No.” She stood. “Let’s go.”

Varian left to find Anduin, and Luciana’s brother flanked her as she walked through the Keep’s winding halls to the side entrance she’d be using. Her brothers followed in silence, and when she stopped in front of the door that would open to the bottom left side of the stairs, Desmond rested his hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. “We’re with you,” he muttered.


	38. Into the Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stuff about Stormwind weddings is based on what I know of regular old North American weddings, which is very little. I took liberties and put my headcanons in there, as is to be expected by this point I think.

The crowds outside fell silent, which was Luciana’s cue. She pulled open the doors, and while no one saw it, everyone would look at her the moment she stepped out. The crowds were arranged around the bottom of the stairs, with barely enough room to fit the envoys, guards, guests of honour, invited heroes, and dignitaries. Citizens of Stormwind filled every other inch, but there were two paths cut through the crowds that would leave just enough room for three people to pass unmolested. Guards lined the inside of the path so that no one could reach out to grab someone.

Luciana took a deep breath, barely able to breathe past the vice around her chest, and started to walk. On the other side of the crowds, she could see the top of Varian’s head bob as Anduin also started to move.

The crowds did indeed turn almost in unison to watch her. She kept her chin up, her scars showing clearly on her face, and her shoulders back and down. She walked to the music that was playing, a marital song with a slowed marching tune.

She and Anduin reached the base of the stairs in unison, and stilled, looking up at the High Priest. Laurena smiled down at her, then at Anduin, and raised her arms.

“Dear ones,” she called, her voice ringing clear over the entire assembly. “We gather today under the gaze of the Light which blesses us and keeps us. We gather with young Prince Anduin, and Lady Knight Luciana, to see them join together in matrimony.”

There were people taking photos already. Luciana could hear the shutters working and had to resists looking over at Anduin. She hadn’t even been able to see what he’d been outfitted with and wondered if he’d dressed again in robes similar to those of a priest. She could feel Varian nearby, not from his fury but from his sheer presence. Her brothers were solid at her back. She tuned back in to what High Priest Laurena was saying.

“With our friends, our family, our allies at our sides, we will see them into their new life. Together, under the Light, we see the love they hold for each other and for their people.” Laurena looked first at Luciana. “Luciana Amadeus,” she said, dropping the title. At this point in the ceremony, titles were meaningless. There were only the two people about to be married, no lords, ladies, knights, or princes. “Do you willingly walk under the Light to take Anduin’s hand in marriage?”

“I do.”

“Anduin Wrynn. Do you willingly walk under the Light to take Luciana’s hand in marriage?”

“I do.” His voice was confident, rang like a bell in her chest.

“Who will speak for Anduin?”

“I will.” Varian stepped up to stand next to Anduin.

“Who will speak for Luciana?”

“I will.” Bannister, as eldest, stepped up.

“Is Anduin worthy to stand beside Luciana?” Laurena asked, looking to Bannister. “Is he worthy to hold her heart, her soul, until they are no longer his to hold? Is he worthy to give her child and love both until the Light takes them?”

Bannister looked at Anduin, inspecting him, and after a long moment he spoke. “He is worthy,” Bannister announced.

Laurena looked to Varian. “Is Luciana worthy to stand beside Anduin?” she asked. “Is she worthy to guard his heart and soul, keep them until they are no longer hers to keep? Is she worthy to bear his child and love them both until the Light takes them?”

Varian glanced at her, smiling lightly. “She is worthy,” he declared. Luciana felt her stomach drop when Laurena gestured to both her and Anduin to face each other, and she turned her head and then her body. She must have made some sort of sappy expression because Varian’s smile grew and Anduin’s ears turned red past his hair.

He was dressed in robes, light shades of blue and white with silver accents to match her. The robes were highly decorated in solid patterns, with lines of silver traveling from the bottom corner to meet at his stomach. A silver belt cinched them at his waist and from the belt hung many thin silver chains with tiny sapphires attached that glittered in the morning sun.

His neck was left mostly bare, save for a silver necklace with a wolf’s head pendant. She tried to bite back her smile at that small, but highly meaningful gesture. His cloth pauldrons were made with light grey gryphon feathers, soft and tapering out and then down towards his back to give the illusion of wings. His dark face was framed with smooth, warm makeup, and his blue eyes seemed to her wide and curious as they always were. His hair, usually messy and untameable, had been formed into a style that took that into account and fell about his ears and forehead artfully. And around the crown of his head was a headband made of silver, delicately wrought and inlaid with sapphires and clear crystals.

Luciana snapped back to herself when Laurena said her name. “Luciana and Anduin, take each other’s hands now and allow the Light to bless you both.”

Luciana reached out. Anduin’s fingers were trembling slightly and she gave them a slight squeeze, trying to offer strength and comfort. His hands were cool, soft between hers. She wondered how her hands felt to him.

The noise of the environment fell away from her. It was muted, pressed away, and she felt the Light first trickle down the back of her neck and then radiate into her throat, down into her chest. Then, it expanded to encompass her entire body and she felt like she was swaddled in blankets. She inhaled slowly, saw Anduin’s indescribable smile, saw the Light shining in his eyes. His Light cooled her hands, and the blankets she imagined were wrapped around her lightened into soft sheets. Much more comfortable for her. She blinked away the moisture that gathered in her eyes, and swallowed thickly. It was too easy to imagine that those soft sheets were the ones on his bed, cool in the morning air after the hearth's fire died during the night, smooth on her skin as she woke slowly to the sound of his breathing.

The Light faded, but Anduin’s remained until he released her hands. Even then, it lingered and buzzed in her palms. “The Light sees you this day, blesses you and offers love and hope for your future together,” High Priest Laurena said. “Walk now under the Light, to the Cathedral where you will be joined.”

Luciana turned, saw Anduin do the same, and five horses were brought up. Guards streamed forward to flank them, allowing enough space for people to see them and cheer but not enough for a potential attack to reach them.

The Cathedral seemed miles away and when they finally reached it, it was a welcome respite. Luciana’s family, including both of her sisters, were already waiting inside. Lady Proudmoore, close friends with the Wrynns despite recent events and the hard lines in her face, was also inside. She offered a small smile when she met Luciana’s gaze. A number of courtiers were also inside, as were select members of the foreign envoys from the other members of the Alliance. Numerous titled heroes also lined the pews. Everyone from Arina the Light of Dawn, Anduin’s priest trainer, to the Loremaster Falthad of Darnassus, to Wren the Giantstalker were watching them eagerly. Many of them held cameras, mostly of gnomish make.

“Enter the Cathedral,” Laurena said, already standing at her place before the altar. “Let the Light wash over you and make you new for each other.”

Luciana felt the Light again, soft and protective at her back. She wondered how Anduin felt, as being a priest he would be much more sensitive to it. They walked together, their escorts waiting at the doors of the Cathedral with a number of guards. Luciana glanced around discretely. Draenei paladins lined the inside of the Hall of Lights. Massive, plated warriors who held their purple-stone hammers at the ready. She also spotted Royal Guards in the side rooms, as well as several SI:7 agents she recognized either hidden in the pews with the other spectators or in the shadows of pillar - or of the great draenei.

She and Anduin ascended the short staircase together, standing before the altar. The High Priest said something, but all Luciana was truly aware of was Anduin’s hand wrapped in hers.

“And Luciana.” Her gaze sharpened on Laurena’s face. “Do you swear as a warrior, as a Knight, as a citizen of Stormwind, to stand by Anduin through the good and the bad, to listen to his voice and see his heart, to love him despite his flaws and in light of his virtues? To protect him and guard his secrets, to let him heal you and guide you through the darkness? Do you swear to uphold your vows to him and love him as your partner?”

“I swear.”

Laurena smiled then, and raised her hands. “Then, with the Light as my witness, I declare you joined in holy matrimony. Partners, bound together under the Light.” She looked up to the crowds. “I hope you’ve all been taking plenty of photographs. You may kiss!”

With only a couple seconds of warning, people whipped their cameras up and shutters started to click. Luciana grinned crookedly and felt the scars pull her skin, turned to Anduin, and pulled him into a tight, closed-mouth kiss that she held for a few seconds. His hands rested on hers that cupped his face gently, and she could feel his smile.

She could also hear the sudden roar of the crowds that were gathered in every public space in the city, watching mage-screens that televised everything going on in the Cathedral’s Hall of Lights. 

Anduin was laughing but she could hardly hear him, because the High Priest lowered her arms while Luciana was kissing him. This was the invitation for family and friends to start to congratulate and celebrate with them. Gifts were usually received at this point, but because of their schedule the gifts would instead be brought to the location of their honeymoon. This was replaced by Varian ascending the stairs, taking Laurena’s place with two courtiers at his side.

In his hands was a parcel wrapped in blue and gold satin. It was round, and Luciana felt her stomach tighten. She faced him fully, saw a smile curl the corners of his mouth. “Anyone who marries a Wrynn joins the Royal House,” he said. “Today, we welcome a new member. Luciana Amadeus Wrynn, you have already vowed to uphold the honour of our house. You have proven yourself time and again as worthy of our name. Will you kneel, and accept the burden and the gift of the crown?”

In silence she kneeled and removed her cap in one smooth motion. Varian unwrapped the parcel to reveal a silver diadem that was similar to Anduin’s but came up to a point above the forehead. Three sapphires, arranged in a triangle, were inlaid into the point. The rest of the diadem was solid silver, decorated similarly with crystals. As was his right as King and patriarch of the House of Wrynn, Varian induced her into their House with a simple motion. He placed the diadem on her head securely. Then he offered his hand, and she took it and rose to her feet proudly. “We welcome you, Princess Luciana, to the House of Wrynn.”

Luciana was hugged by at least twelve people, most of whom she could recognize. The strange contact stung and made her skin crawl. She kept hold of Anduin’s hand and his smile was bright, up until it was time for them to separate. Varian lay a heavy, comforting hand on her shoulder, and Desmond and Bannister snuck up on Anduin to grab his arms and drag him away. Luciana could hear them promising a real party to their new brother in law, while they were still allowed so close to him.

“Let’s head out,” Varian said, chuckling. He had also heard Desmond’s declarations.

Luciana had been aware of her status as a celebrity since the first announcement of the betrothal, but now she got to witness it first-hand. People screamed her name, her title, her Company at her, and reached out to try and touch her as she passed by on horseback with Varian at her side. Smiling, giddy, she reached down and let her hand brush the ones that were closest to her. Many people had their children on their shoulders and Luciana took care to take the tiny hands she could reach and give them a little squeeze.

Varian looked down, and she copied him to see Shauna trotting proudly by her horse. The dog, despite only knowing Luciana for a brief time, had apparently decided that she was her human and therefore Shauna had the perfect right to accompany the King and the Princess wherever she pleased.

The Valley of Heroes was set up with streaming lengths of white, silver, and blue cloth. Stormwind and Alliance banners floated proudly in the summer breeze. It was warm out, but the wind cooled Luciana just enough for her to be comfortable - though she could have gone with the coat, to be sure. She wondered how Varian survived in his heavy armour, but was willing to bet he had had a court enchanter make some sort of cooling rune for him.

There was a feast arranged at tables and the people gathered had already started eating, but Luciana and Varian had their own small table, flanked by guards. She sat, smiling widely next to the King. Her father-in-law. That was still odd to think, but she knew she would get used to it. He acted fatherly towards her, made her feel young and safe like she ought to have felt years ago. She felt she had some time to make up for.

People lined up to meet her and congratulate her as she ate, one bite at a time. At one point her entire squadron showed up with Enaeon in his Vindicator armour - splendid and shining under the sun. His grin was almost as bright.

“Congratulations, my friend!” he cried, easily heard as he grasped her hands in his own. The metal was blessedly cool on her skin. She felt his Light tickle at her palm scars. “I am glad for you!”

“You’re happy for her, you mean?” Jillian grumbled, pushing his arm aside to pop her head up under it. She was in worgen form and there were a set of cannoneer’s mufflers over her ears. She gave a fang-filled grin. “We’re all happy for you, Lt,” she said, the words forming about knife-like fangs. “It’s good to see you perking up a bit.”

“Thank you, Jill,” Luciana said warmly, taking her clawed and furry hand for a moment. “The others are here?”

“Yeah, Vic’s caught up with the fireworks and Lars and Kain are watching her six. Others are dancing out yonder.”

“Alright. Have fun, you guys,” Luciana said. “That’s an order.”

“Aye, sir!” Jillian gave her a salute, laughing as she walked away. She could easily see over the crowds, and Enaeon had no trouble parting them.

When Luciana had eaten her fill Varian picked her up for a dance, and then the time came for her to make a speech she’d prepared a week prior. When she climbed onto a temporary dais that sat under the statue of the great General Turalyon, of the old Imperial Army, people fell silent in increments until the Valley was near silent. She felt powerful, to command the silence Varian received with a simple gesture. She also felt incredibly small. Here was her kingdom, the one she’d inherit one day alongside Anduin. All of these people were under her, and she was tasked with protecting them, fighting for them, guarding Anduin while he guided them. And they all knew it.

She took a moment, observed every face she could pick out amongst the crowds. This was the perfect opportunity for several things, least of all her attempt at normalizing the discourse on battle fatigue. It was common, well-known, but no one seemed to speak of it outside the army, and it could hurt more than a gunshot wound to have your own family disregard it or misunderstand you like hers had. “You are all familiar with me,” she started. “That I am a warrior, a berserker, and a Lady Knight will come as no surprise to you.”

“113!” she heard someone shout. It sounded like Christopher.

“What may surprise you is that I have suffered from battle fatigue for many years, more than the two and a half I've spent at the helm of my squadron.” No one yelled at that. “I have had nightmares, horrible night terrors and hallucinations. And with the help of priests, with the support of my family and my squadron, I found the road to recovery and I follow it still today. It is not easy.” Varian’s gaze was steady on her, promising support, and she pushed through the nerves.

“I have fought, bled, nearly died, and killed for you. I have suffered for you, Stormwind. You are my city, my kingdom, my people, and I fight for you, for all those whom I would spare the horrors of war. I fight for our friends in far places, for our allies here and abroad. And I will always fight. I am the warrior.

"But I will use my strength to build as well as break. I will protect you, guard you and your Prince so that you may see the Light and follow it to a brighter future. I will clear the path, bloody my hands so that you may prosper. I do so willingly, willfully, knowing that when I return from war, tired and torn, my city - my people welcome me home with open arms and a warm hearth. I fight for my home. I fight for you, for us, for our allies.

"I have the fury of a berserker, and through the years I have leashed it, tamed it, and learned it. It is my weapon as surely as my sword and I promise you all that I will never give you cause to fear that my fury will fall on you. It will fall on our foes, on enemies of the Alliance, on criminals and those who use their strength against you, to bring you harm, to slow your progress. I will be the guardian that stands between you and our enemies.

"Terrible things will happen, my friends. But under the Light we know that those who persevere, who fight against the darkness and willfully follow the promise of the Light, will always triumph. I have stumbled, I have been brought low, but I always, always stand tall and march on. Because I know that behind me are the people I defend, those who depend on their soldiers to stand against the darkness, to fight away the evils that would tear us asunder.

"I have you all to thank for giving me a reason to fight, for giving me a path to follow so that I can hold my head high. And I promise you all, with your strength, your voices behind me, we will march ever onwards! Together, into the Light!” She drew her sword with a flourish and held it high. The crowds below her, caught by surprise, started to cheer. And when she thought the noise would even out, it kept climbing. She kept her proud smile, her sword raised high, and counted out twenty breaths before lowering it, sheathing it and raising her arms. The noise seemed to halve and she could barely be heard over it.

“Feast, celebrate, and be happy!” she cried. “Today is a day for joy!”

She descended from the dais and was immediately surrounded by people. She felt twitchy, itched to push them off, but realized that they weren’t trying to grab her or corner her. They simply wanted to be near her. She allowed it, allowed a relieved laugh, and when she started to walk the people parted just enough to let her pass. Hands did touch her shoulders, her arms, but she didn’t mind it. Her people. Just like her squadron was hers to defend, to command, these people were hers. They belonged to Anduin and she would see them all safe. Happy.

She saw Enaeon approaching, hugged him around the waist when he embraced her with care to his armour. She did the same with Jillian, and then with Victoria and then her boys. She wished Devon was there, George as well, but as she had promised the people around her, she’d keep marching on. Into the Light, where Frederic sat with their ancestors. Where all of their lost ones waited.

The day passed quickly and she felt tired from dancing, talking to whoever could be heard over the crowds, and setting off the first of many fireworks with Victoria’s excited grin in her face. Varian was handling it well, completely used to public appearances and the way civilians reacted to his presence. Luciana had yet to adjust to the awed stares and stammered words. She had always received respect, and fear was something of a comfort to her, but adulation was a whole other beast.

Time passed between the sunset and Thalien’s appearance and though Luciana didn’t know the exact time, she trusted that the SI:7 agent would keep the schedule. She made her excuses to Jillian, with whom she’d been discussing the upcoming publication of the primer on Gilnean worgen Jillian had helped her write, and caught Varian’s eye. He was smirking, looking like a cat who’d caught a bird, and Luciana mouthed _don’t say a word._ His shoulders shook with laughter, and Thalien, wearing civilian clothes for the time being, guided her carefully through the crowds. At one point he threw a cloak over her, and she took the scarf he offered to wrap around her neck and chin. It would hide her scars, make her much less identifiable.

He guided her through the crowds and though some people did recognize her, she held a finger to where her lips would be past the scarf and asked for silence. She got some grins, some dirty jokes she could appreciate more if they weren’t about Anduin, and eventually they slipped out of the city’s front gates to two waiting, nondescript horses. Two adventurers waited for them. A human hunter, with a wolf at his side, and a night elf druid whose saber watched her with attentive glowing eyes.

She nodded to them, pulled herself up into the saddle and watched Thalien lithely mount his horse. They weren’t far from the tree line and a small assembly of SI:7 agents waited for them. The hunter’s wolf and the druid’s mount were watchful, their ears swiveling. The wolf’s nose worked constantly while the saber’s eyes seemed to see all, even in the dark and dense forest.

Some of the SI:7 agents were worgen, and guided her effortlessly through the trees. It took a good hour at a walk, sometimes a trot, to reach a secluded path that she could barely make up. It led up into the great mountains somewhere between the city and Northshire Abbey. Thalien and the two adventurers went with her to the stone-walled cabin that waited for her. “The Prince will arrive shortly,” Thalien murmured. It made sense to have her go first. She was used to combat, more dispensable than the Crown Prince who held the royal bloodline, and if someone had managed to set up an ambush, it would be more likely that she’d survive - or that they could find someone else to provide an heir with Anduin. But, he'd chosen her. She was his now. A mere ambush wouldn't stop her.

Luciana was tense when she entered, hand on her pommel, but nothing jumped out at her and a night elf agent called the all-clear, and she relaxed. Werelights were activated through the house and someone lit the hearth. Thalien was the last to leave. “We’ll be in the forest surrounding you at all times,” he said. “If there’s trouble, we’ll know. If you need something, we’ll get it for you. Just go outside and someone will come to you. There will not be guards patrolling this area as they don’t usually and it would only call attention to you.” He cocked his head. “The Prince is nearly here. Do you need anything?”

“The kitchen is stocked?”

“Four days worth for you and the Prince,” he said. “We’ll get more as you need it.”

“Good.” She nodded once. “Dismissed,” she said, realizing he was awaiting the command. Without a word, he slipped through the front door and vanished into the night.


	39. I Go With Gladness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (smut incoming next chapter)

Luciana fiddled with her cap that Thalien had handed back to her, set it down on the table. She pulled off her scarf, rubbed at her jaw when some of the wool caught on her scars. She shrugged off the cloak, laid it over the back of a chair, moved to undo the chains on her coat and paused. She would let Anduin do it. It might help relax him. She imagined he’d be as nervous as her, with the added discomfort of not knowing what came next. Undressing her, making her vulnerable, might help.

She checked the kitchen, saw the expansive stores of food in the pantry and a gnomish ice box. It hummed and continuously blew out cold air. She couldn’t quite recall what the name of the invention was, and she shut the door absentmindedly. Her head itched and she reached up, fingers touching the diadem and reminding her it was there. She removed it, ran her hand through her hair.

The front door open and she heard murmuring, and picked out Anduin’s voice. He sounded assured, comfortable, but he was the Prince and had practice with masks. She wanted to pull it off, if he would let her.

“Luciana?” he called. She turned to face him as he entered the kitchen. Under the werelights, the silver in his robes glimmered. His headband glittered and she reached out to remove it with careful fingers. She set it down on the counter next to hers. She turned her shoulders, inspected him closely.

“Anduin,” she murmured, met his eyes and smiled softly. Safety, she remembered. He might be physically safe but she had to make sure he felt it. “How do you feel?”

“Wonderful.” He was smiling now, and took a step forward. “We’re married,” he said. “That’s an odd thought.”

“It is,” she agreed. “Married at nineteen. You’re still quite young.”

“You’re only two years older than me. Not even.”

“I forgot sometimes,” she admitted, closing the distance between them and sliding her hands over his waist. “You don’t feel too young to marry?”

“I thought I’d be married off the day I turned eighteen,” he told her with a laugh. “I’ve had two years warning that I was going to be wed to you.”

“And you wanted it?”

“I did,” he confirmed without hesitating, hands reaching up to cup her neck. They slid down to her shoulders and gripped them loosely. “Did you?”

“I did.”

He grinned at her response, wet his lips briefly. “Kiss me?” he asked, and she smiled, leaned forward to kiss his lips chastely. He made a noise of protest. “Really kiss me. Like the first time.”

“Your wish is my command,” she murmured against his lips, and slid a hand up his stomach, his chest, felt him shudder under her hand and she cupped the back of his neck to kiss him properly. Her fingers dug into the back of his head when he made a small noise against her tongue and she groaned, pulling him flush against her. She wanted him, to consume him _take_ him inside her and she took a break and a shuddering breath, pulling away enough to breathe.

“There’s no reason to stop now,” he said, breathless.

“There is,” she corrected. “Or at least, there’s reason to move slowly.”

“I’ll be fine. I am fine.”

She smiled, kissed his lips lightly. “How about we get you out of these robes, first? And you can help me unclasp all these damned chains.”

He laughed lightly. “And wipe off the makeup,” he added.

“That, too.”

She loosened his belt, slid it from his waist and laid it on the counter. The robe tied up the back, she discovered, and once unlaced Anduin could step out of it. She'd wait to do that until he indicated he wanted her to undress him. “Are you wearing anything under there?” she joked, and he blushed lightly.

“Yes,” he said defensively, and she chuckled, feeling breathless when his fingers nimbly unclasped the chains that wrapped around her coat. They weren’t welded onto anything and they ended up on the counter in neat rows next to her diadem. When she was free of them, Anduin carefully unbuttoned the coat and helped her shrug it off. If his hands took pains to trail over her chest and shoulders and back, she didn’t take note of it.

He removed her silver rings with care. “We’ll have to wait for your next leave to find our pair,” he murmured, speaking of the one-month tradition. After a month, a married couple would find a pair of rings that would signify their bond to one another. The month was to make sure they were actually happy with each other, and gave them time to adjust to being together.

“Mm. You could find a pair on your own,” she replied, watching him as he took off his own jewelry. “You know me.”

“Not well enough.”

“You will in two weeks,” she said, pressing against his back and resting a hand on his hip. He inhaled, paused and looked at her over his shoulder.

“I suppose I will,” he said, breathing though his slightly open mouth. She started to unlace the back of his robe and he swallowed thickly, wet his lips and faced forward. She went slowly, gave him time to get comfortable with her hands, and when the laces were fully loosened she slid her hands over his back to his shoulders.

“Alright?” she asked. “Or do you want to wait a little while?”

“Wait?” he said. “Why...?”

“If you’re not comfortable,” she replied, gently massaging his shoulders and the sides of his neck. “We can wait. Take it slow, one thing at a time.”

“I don’t want to wait,” he stammered. “I’ve been waiting.”

Her hands slowed. “For me?”

“Yes.”

“How long?”

He sighed loosely. “A while. Since the warrior house, I’d say. I... had a crush on you for a while, after I saw you in court a few times. I didn’t think I’d see you again. At least, not like this.” He chuckled weakly. “I’m tired of waiting, Luciana.”

“Alright.”

She slowly slid her hands, griping the collar of his robe, down. He seemed more than uncomfortable, nervous, and she stopped. “You don’t seem comfortable,” she said softly. “Hold on a moment.” She released, was almost hurt to hear his relieved sigh but pushed it back. It wasn’t about her.

She untucked her shirt roughly, unbuttoned it and pulled it over her head. Her breast band was removed, set in a messy pile on the table, and Anduin peeked at her from under his hair to see what she was doing. She glanced over, gave her rarely-seen smirk and watched his face redden. He looked away, and she laughed silently to herself as she slowly slid her pants down her legs, inch by inch. If he was watching, he was getting quite the show, especially considering they’d given her smallclothes that were more a set of strings than actual underwear. ‘No lines under the pants’, Dechaine had said. ‘You will not look foolish in my clothes.’

When she was nude except for the underwear, she turned slowly to Anduin. He was watching her, eyes roving her body in twitches. He probably felt he wasn’t supposed to look, but she wanted him to. She approached him slowly, smiling softly, and slid her hand up his arm to his shoulder. When both hands were at the collar of his robe, she asked, “Alright?”

“Yes,” he breathed.

She brushed it off his body slowly, hands caressing his arms on the way down. He had something around his neck that had looked like part of the collar of his robes - a black band. She wondered what it was, leaned forward to press her lips against his shoulder blade. She felt hot already, impatient, she wanted him _under her inside her_ but she held it back. She wanted him to be comfortable, open, wanting. Her. For her. She wondered if he would be, when his hands traced all of her ragged scars and marred, ugly skin. She hoped it was enough.

The robes fell loose around his thighs and she backed up, lowered them so he could step out. She saw what the black cloth collar had been for when he turned, looking down shyly at her hands as they folded the robes over the back of a chair. His smallclothes looked like satin, black and shiny and barely holding him. They passed thin over his hips, and five strips of cloth were connected to the underclothes and clasped to a silver ring that rested over his chest. She wanted to lick him between the lines cut down his torso. She smiled. “Who came up with this?” she asked, moving forward and to the side slightly so he wouldn’t feel too trapped. She pressed her hip against his at an angle to leave space enough between them. 

“My idea,” Anduin said, laughing nervously. “Not this, specifically. This was... Lady Dechaine had someone look around. Discretely.”

“Of course.” She nodded. “Does your... Does Varian know?”

“No. I didn’t think you’d be very comfortable knowing he knew I was wearing this.”

She chuckled leaned forward to kiss his shoulder softly. “Probably not. He’s a little scary.”

Anduin laughed. “Do... do you like it?” he asked in a small voice.

“I like it,” she answered, breathing through her mouth against the delicate skin around his neck. He shivered lightly. “Are you cold?” she asked. “I could warm you up.”

He wet his lips. “Maybe we should move to the bedroom. The kitchen isn’t the best place for this.”

She smiled. “I recall hearing something about you liking the fact that I can pick you up,” she said, trailing her hand slowly and gently up his side. “May I?”

It took him a moment to respond. “Yes.”

She moved smoothly, assuredly. She’d gotten his weight measurement from Lady Dechaine in whispers, knew she could hold him almost effortlessly. She wouldn’t have suggested it otherwise. She slipped an arm around the backs of his knees, picked him up and held him for a moment with a grin. “Alright?” she asked.

“Yes,” he squeaked, surprised at how fast she’d moved. With a quite chuckle, she brought him to the bedroom. She’d explored the house when she’d first arrived with Thalien and even though the werelights had been dimmed, she knew where to go. She set Anduin on the bed, reached over to the light control panel over the nightstand. She raised the lights a bit, watching him. “Do they have to be so bright?” he asked. She could tell he wasn’t as comfortable now, not with what he was wearing. He thought he had reason to be ashamed.

“I want to see you,” she answered. “And I thought you might want to see me. I can lower them, if you’d prefer.”

“No,” he said quietly. “Leave them on.”

She straightened, looked around the room. Anduin moved to sit on the edge of the bed. “What is it?” he asked.

“Why don’t we find out what they’ve stashed around here?” she asked with a crooked smile. Letting him get used to the room might help. “The bathroom’s over there,” she said, pointing. “But I haven’t had time to look around inside yet.” Actually she’d already used it, but she was giving Anduin time to do the same without him needing to excuse himself. He’d embarrass so easily. She wanted to avoid that.

“I’ll go,” Anduin said, following her prompt. She brushed her hand over his side as he past her and he gave her a shy smile. She watched him go, admiring his trim waist and the satin that cupped his buttocks just so.


	40. With You at My Side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (basically just some smut)

Luciana dug around in the nightstand drawer, finding several kinds of lubricant and some very interesting toys. She left those aside for the moment, taking out a bottle of unscented lubricant and setting it down near the small clock.

Anduin exited the bathroom a minute later. “Nothing unusual,” he said. “Towels, toilet paper, soaps and oils.” He was holding a brown towel, and she could see the wet spot. “Here.” He came forward, and she let him gently wipe off her face. It took a few passes but it seemed he got most of it off. He’d already cleared his face, and she watched him as he went to return the towel to the bathroom. After that he stood in the doorway, unsure.

“Alright.” She approached him, seeing him hesitate. “Are you sure you want to do this now? You’re tired, I’m tired. We can wait until tomorrow.”

“I don’t want to wait,” he insisted quietly, finally reaching out to touch her. He was hesitant at first but slowly, his touch on her sides and her arms grew more assured. He bit his lip, looked at her, worked his mouth for a moment. “I want you now. Tonight,” he said with a slowly growing smile. “I’m sure of it.”

“You want me?” she asked, pulling him back to the bed. She slipped around him too quickly for him to react, pushed him to sit on the bed and put a knee at his hip. “You want me for your first?”

“I do.”

She carded her hands through his hair, unsmiling. She likely looked quite assured, but in truth she felt a bit lost. “You’re sure?” she asked. “I can be rough.”

“You can be gentle, too.” He reached up, took her hands and pulled them down to his throat. She let him manipulate her fingers, wrapping them around his neck. “I trust you.”

She stared down at him for a moment. Her gut felt odd, tight. She leaned down and kissed him softly, and when he willingly opened his lips she complied. She pressed into him, against him, pushing him down to the mattress. When she released him he laughed breathlessly, inched up to the pillows. She watched him, feeling predatory, and crawled over to him. She stopped at his stomach, low enough to kiss his skin. “Can I touch you?” she asked.

“You don’t have to ask,” Anduin said.

“Yes I do. I want to make sure. Can I touch you?”

“Yes.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

“Can I lick you?”

“Y-yes.”

She kept her hand on his skin, firm and hot. She broke eye contact with him to lean down and lick a slow trail up in the space between the first and second straps that passed over the front of his torso. He gasped, twitched under her. She looked up to make sure it was a positive reaction, saw his hooded eyes and slightly opened mouth, and continued to the next space. She licked four lines up his stomach to his chest, leaving a trail that would feel chilled in the absence of her touch. Her hand rested on his hip for a moment and she went up to his neck, sliding her body over his. Luciana played with the ring on his collar with her tongue, darting against the sensitive skin around it. Anduin let out a short and breathy moan and she licked his throat over the collar.

“Lucy,” he sighed.

“Do you like it when I lick you?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“A little? Or a lot?”

“A lot.”

She mouthed under his chin, slid herself over him and returned to his stomach. She traced her tongue around the edges of the satin smallclothes and the straps, pushed under the waist of the smallclothes and listened to the slight and breathy noises he made. His cock was pushing up against the satin and she considered it for a moment. “Can I touch you?” she asked.

“I said yes,” he said, looking down at her.

“Let me be specific. Can I touch your cock?”

His nostrils flared as he inhaled sharply. “Yes,” he answered, voice weak. Luciana slid her right hand from his hip to his knee, and then up to his inner thigh. She gently cupped him through the satin and he whimpered, rolled his hips against her hand. “Did you like that?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to do it again?”

“Yes.”

She gently massaged him as she moved back up to his throat, licking hot trails up his chest and from his neck to below his ear. “Luciana,” he moaned.

“Anduin,” she responded, kissing his lips softly. “How do you feel?”

“Good?” he replied. “What... what do you mean?”

“Are you alright so far? Comfortable?”

“Yes.” He smiled up at her. “I’m fine. You’re...” He gasped when she slipped the satin to the side, allowing his cock to be free of it. He tried to say something, couldn’t form the word past the feel of her fingers gently caressing him. He licked his lips. “You?” he breathed. “What about you?”

“You can touch me,” she said with a smile. “You can kiss me and lick me.”

His hands were hesitant, found her hips and then the backs of her thighs. They cupped her face and he pulled her down into a kiss, something he was quickly improving at, and then they slid up and down her chest, feeling the hard planes of her abdomen and the abundance of scars. “Do you like it when I touch you?” he asked.

“Yes.” She left his cock, and he whined but she silenced it with a short kiss. “Can I unclasp this?” she asked, fingering the metal ring at his neck. He nodded and she undid the clasp, the five connected straps left loose on his chest. “Can I remove your smalls?” Anduin nodded. “Please say yes. I need to hear it.”

“Yes.”

She backed up until she was kneeling and slid them from his hips, which he wriggled to get the cloth loose. He raised his legs in the air so she could slip them off and she tossed them aside, taking his ankles in her hands. She wanted to, so she asked. “Can I spread your legs?”

It took him a moment, and she could see him thinking, see the blush on his face and chest. “Yes.”

She spread them slowly, opening him to her and setting his feet down to either side of her. She retook her position hovering over him, bracing one elbow on the mattress, and settled her hips comfortable against his. “Alright?” she asked. She could feel his cock, hardening and hot, pressed against her stomach. She herself felt hot, felt her pulse pound. She wanted. Wanted him. Now. She would be patient whenever he needed it.

“Better than that,” he answered, and laughed breathlessly and pulled her to kiss her again.

“Good,” she said, feeling his smile against her mouth. “Can I leave the collar on? Or do you want to take it off?”

“Do you like it?”

“I do.”

He licked his lips. “Take it off?” he half-asked, and without a word she reached up to find the button at the back. It was left on the nightstand, and she kissed his throat delicately. She felt his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Luciana,” Anduin said. His hands couldn’t decide on a place to rest. “What about you?”

“What about me?” she asked.

“I feel like... like I’m getting everything.”

“I said you could touch me.” He was giving himself to her like a sacrificial lamb, and he was getting everything? _Oh, if only you knew how wrong you are._

“I don’t know how. Or where,” he said slowly. 

“Do you want me to show you?”

“Yes.”

She took his left hand and brought it up to her throat. “I’ll show you all of the sensitive spots I know,” she murmured, guiding his hand. Her throat, the back of her neck at the hairline, the backs of her upper arms, the spot over her lower spine that had been healed of a burn scar, two spots opposite on her waist, the backs of her thighs, the line between them and her buttocks, the backs of her knees. “A female body,” she started slowly, watching him as his eyes tracked where her hand brought his, “needs slow and gentle touch. Constant attention, work, to arouse it, to make them feel it. A female must be prepared. Touches, caresses, kisses,” she said like a mantra. 

She brought his hand back up to her smalls, let it rest on his stomach while she slipped them off. It took a bit of manoeuvring but she managed and tossed the tiny thing aside. Anduin’s cock twitched against her hip and she could see his eyes roving her body, taking in the dark hair and the light trail of it that led from her navel down. “When a female is aroused,” she continued, taking his hand again and guiding it to her womanhood. She would let him close the last inch of distance. “She is wet, wetter than normal. She is always discharging, but it feels different, is different when she is aroused.” She was speaking of herself now, specifically, and he seemed to know it, if the blush spreading across his chest was any indication.

He licked his lips, looked up at her as though for permission. She smiled softly and she could feel his fingers, tentative and shaky, run over the wiry hair. “Touch,” she said, “is important for a woman’s body. The better you know her the better you can make her feel.”

“Will I know you?” he asked.

“I want you to.” She opened her legs further, inviting, and he parted her with his fingers, spreading the lips and using a fingertip to lightly caress her vulva. It wasn’t a feeling she was used to, not anymore, and she breathed in deeply when he started to explore. She smiled approvingly down at him.

“I know the anatomy,” he said before she could explain.

“I’ll tell you a secret,” she said instead. “There’s a little spot to the left... my left,” she corrected. “On the side of my clitoris.”

“What about it?” he asked.

“I’ll let you find out on your own,” she replied with a smile. “Touch,” she said, encouraged, and he slipped a fingertip into her opening. “Like that. Slow, for tonight at least.” He pressed his finger into her, and she could feel his other fingers and his thumb moving against her. He found the soft spot inside and pressed against it.

“You’re wet,” he said quietly.

“How wet?” she asked, reaching down to test herself. “Not quite enough.”

“What do I do?”

She rolled her hips experimentally. “Keep doing that. Just a little. Yes,” she said when he crooked his finger a bit and moved it gently against her soft spot. “And if you wanted to touch my clit that would help.”

“Alright.” He wet his lips again. She imagined they’d be a bit chapped by the end of their night. He angled his hand so he could gently brush against her clit with his thumb, and she rolled her hips up to make it easier for him. She leaned back, bracing her hands on the mattress behind her, and let him work for a minute. It wouldn’t normally be quite enough, but she thought about it. Anduin was touching her. Anduin, her husband, her sweet boy, exploring her. Wanting to make her feel good. His other hand came to rest on her thigh, and his Light soothed the muscle that was pulled tight with her odd position. That helped, and she made small noises of pleasure to encourage him. After a short while she pulled herself back up, tested again. She had been imagining him over her, inside her and trembling. It had helped.

“Good,” she breathed. Anduin pulled his hand back, unsure of what to do with it. It was coated in her discharge, clear and sticky. She took his hand, met his gaze and held it as she slid her tongue over his fingertips and then slid his fingers into her mouth. He watched her mouth, breathing hard as she cleaned off his fingers. When she was satisfied she released them and brought his hand down to her small breast. He caressed her chest, fingers tweaking her nipple as they passed over it. “Alright?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Good.” She leaned down, kissed him again. She swallowed his moan, rolled her hips against his when he moved.

“Luciana,” he groaned. “I want you.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. “You want me?”

“I want you,” he said, breathless but firm and sincere. “I want you, always. Luciana, I...” He blinked a few times. She could see how dilated his pupils were. “I don’t want to wait. I don’t want to go any slower. I want you.” A pause. “Take me.”

Her gut tightened like a vice as she stared at him for a moment, startled. She swallowed, groaned, leaned down to kiss him hard _consume_ him take him like he’d wanted. She reached down to her vulva, spread a bit of the wetness around the lips and then guided him into her. It hurt, a little, he was thicker that she’d thought he would have been but compared to everything else she’d suffered it was only a mild discomfort. An unfair price for the pleasure of feeling him inside her, one she'd gladly pay every time if she needed to. If he hadn’t said those two words she would have taken the time to explain how to prepare a woman, _his woman_ , properly - but she didn’t want to wait anymore.

Anduin moaned shakily and she mouthed at the side of his neck, feeling him slide into her. It was hot, thick, hard, exactly what she wanted what she needed and she rocked against him, feeling the first shudders of arousal that came from the same place as her fury. “Fuck,” she breathed. “Oh, fuck.” She rolled her hips. The heat of him burned her and she wanted to snarl. “Oh, _Light_ , Anduin.”

“Lucy,” he said, grabbing onto her arms. He gulped, breathed hard. “Alright?” he asked with a smile. Her throat felt tight and she pressed her chest against his, started to roll and lift her hips. His hands gripped tightly, loosened and fell and then found a place in her hair. “Oh. Lucy,” he moaned as her hands gripped the blankets to either side of his head, pulling at the sheets.

“Fuck.” She was losing control, but she was doing this for him, this time. But every few times she rolled her hips down and it ground her clit against his skin and she wanted, wanted, more. She moaned, pressed her face into his neck and then into his pillow and she couldn’t find the right place for it so she just kept moving her hips, listening to the throaty moans that Anduin kept giving to her like precious gifts.

His noises raised in pitch until she could see him helplessly close to climax. “Anduin,” she groaned against the side of his neck. “Let it go. Let go. Let me do this. Let go. Come on. Come.”

“N-no,” he groaned. “Not yet. Not yet, you haven’t...”

“You will have weeks, years, decades to make me come,” she interrupted, still moving still fucking him almost desperately. “Come, Anduin. Let go. Come inside me. Come.”

His breath stuck in his chest and she watched his abdomen tighten as he came. His mouth opened slightly, his eyes unfocused and she watched his body and his face and reveled it in. She could feel him twitching under her and inside her and it was more satisfying than she’d ever thought it could be.

He slumped back down onto the mattress after a few moments, breathing again. His head lolled against the pillow, his hands loose on her powerful thighs that were settled around his hips. “Oh,” he breathed slowly. “Oh, Lucy. Oh, Light.”

She licked her lips, breathing hard and grinning triumphantly. “Good?” she asked. She could hardly hear herself over the blood rushing in her ears. She waited, patient, despite the roar of blood and arousal.

“Oh, yeah.” She chuckled and he groaned, pressing up into her for a moment. “What about you?” he asked.

“I can wait.”

“No,” he said, caressing her thighs, and then her hips. “I want to... make you come. Would you show me?”

“Yes.” She smiled softly, raised her hips and let his softening cock slide of her easily. He grunted, abdomen flexing at the sensation. She guided his hand back to her vulva. “Touch,” she said. “Constant touch, slow build.”

“Okay.”

His fingers were long and though they seemed slim when in her hands they felt thick against her, and hot. Her pulse was pounding and he managed to find a rhythm that matched it. And, then, he found the spot she’d mentioned, and the heat built in her crotch and spread to her legs. She left out a moan, feeling helpless, and leaned down to relax against his chest with her hips in the air. “Right there,” she said. “Shit, Anduin, Light's fucking... Oh.” Her thighs were clenched tight, quivering, and she felt his Light soothe her, relax her through her lower back to her legs. She let it, tensing and relaxing periodically. It built. Heat, tension, pleasure. His fingers worked her patiently, steadily, and though it took some time he didn’t falter, concentrated on the little twitches she couldn’t suppress.

“Come on, Lucy,” he said quietly. “Let me do this.”

She sighed, inhaled sharply and moaned and then did it again, louder and higher in pitch. Three times, three moans, and the last one tapered off into breathlessness. She was tight, tighter, wound up like a tension spring and it snapped and she came, rolling down into him and twitching and moaning. His fingers kept moving until she keened and tried to lift her hips away from them but the twitching of her back muscles brought her back down. His fingers stilled, let her ride it out and calm. Her breaths were sharp, quick and uneven and she pressed her nose into his neck, trying to regulate her breathing with the smell of his skin.

“Alright?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Yes.” She kissed his neck gently. “Give me a moment.” That was the best she'd had in a long time, and she savoured it as long as she could.

“Take all the time you need. I like this.” His hands gently caressed her back, exploring the bumps and ridges of scars and burns. “Maybe tomorrow, I can see them?” he asked her.

“Whatever you want.”

She waited as long as it took for the buzzing in her crotch to stop, and then she heaved herself off the bed. “Where are you going?” Anduin asked, disappointed.

“Give me a moment,” she laughed, and gave a single sharp tug to the covers. They slipped down the bed, almost bringing Anduin with them and he let out a noise of surprise. “Go ahead and get comfortable. I’ll be right back. There’s tissues and such in the nightstand.”

“Okay.”

She went to the bathroom to pee. Several of her more adventurous bunkmates in the Academy had gotten painful but temporary infections in their urethras after penetrative sex, and her own experience told her how unpleasant it was. After a bit of research and questioning of the resident healers, she’d gotten plenty of tips and tricks to avoid such things. This was one of them.

She wiped herself off a bit as well, washed her hands and shut off the werelights in the washroom. “See?” she said. Anduin had already dimmed the lights, and she walked slowly while her eyes adjusted. “Only a minute.”

“Too long,” he murmured, near sleep. She felt light, a bit stiff, tired, and slipped into bed next to him. The room was cool when her blood wasn’t running hot in her veins, and it was pleasant on her skin. Anduin was huddled up under the blankets and she laughed when he wriggled closer to her. “You’re warm,” he grumbled. “Shut up.”

She pulled him closer, tangled their legs together and kissed his lips softly. “Alright?” she asked.

“Alright.”

“Sleep, Anduin. I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me now.”

“That’s good,” he mumbled. She listened to his breathing, slow and shallow. She felt relaxed, light, and let him lull her to sleep. Safety and happiness. She would provide for him.


	41. Until Death Do Us Part

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (short fluffy smut)
> 
> There is a second part to the story in the making! Have no fear, for I am Warcraft trash which has been firmly ensconced in fanfiction hell and I don't plan on climbing out of the pit anytime soon.
> 
> Look out for "Oathkeeper", and lots more feels.  
> Lots.  
> I aim to kick your teeth in with feels.

Luciana woke to one of the most pleasant mornings of her life. Nothing to worry about, no reason to rush, and a naked and very pleasantly warm Anduin pressed to her side. His hair tickled her nose when she inhaled, but it was a very minor inconvenience. She sighed, awake now, and because Anduin’s arm was slung over her stomach it disturbed his sleep.

He let out a groan, sighed, and flattened his hand over her hip. “Time’s it?” he mumbled. Luciana peeked over his shoulder to check the clock.

“Just past nine,” she answered quietly. She brought her hand up to brush his messy hair away from his face and he sighed again, smiled and shifted to press closer to her. 

“Don’t get up,” he said. “You’re warm.”

She laughed lightly, leaned over to press a kiss into his hair. “Alright,” she said quietly, and settled back in to rest.

Two hours passed while she was lightly dozing, barely aware of her surroundings and very aware of Anduin’s body. She could feel her pulse in her crotch, and though it provided a pleasant buzz she waited for him to wake on his own, wanting him to rest well.

When he did wake, it was slowly. It started with deeper breaths, and then a quiet groan, and then Anduin remembered he was in bed with her naked and she could see the corner of his smile when he shifted. “Good morning,” he greeted, yawning. 

“Good morning to you,” she answered, running her fingers through his hair. “Sleep well?”

He let out a pleased hum as he stretched his arm over her. “Yeah. You?”

She smiled and pulled his head down, carefully, by the hair to kiss him. She felt his wide smile and he moved over her to keep kissing her, brushing the covers off to the side. Luciana ran her other hand over his thigh, resting it on his hip for a moment and brushing it down the back of his leg. He pulled back, exhaled slowly, and kissed her again. With enough practice he was growing bolder and flicked the tip of his tongue against her lip. “Mm, eager?” she mumbled, opening herself, spreading her legs to let him settle against her hips.

“Shouldn’t I be?”

“You should be very.” He grew hard quickly, already partway there from when he awoke. She could feel his length against her vulva. He wanted to say something, hesitating while he tried to sort out his sleep-muddled thoughts. “I want you,” Luciana murmured. His nose was almost touching hers and she could feel his breath on her lips. “Do you want it right now?”

“What do you think?” he said finally, smiling and kissing her again. He was hesitant, inexperienced, but made up for it in eagerness. Luciana bucked her hips up against his and he moaned into her mouth. She was wet, had been for at least an hour, and it didn’t take long for her to be fully aroused.

“I’m not used to taking men anymore,” she said as Anduin went to her neck to kiss a line down her scars. “I should have prepared myself last night but you said ‘take me’ and I got impatient.”

“Did it hurt you?”

“Not really.” She laughed breathily when he found a ticklish spot under her chin. “I ignored it.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, either,” he said, moving back up her neck to her lips.

“You didn’t.”

“Will it hurt now?”

“Probably not.”

“What can I do to make sure it doesn’t?”

She liked him better like this, a little more open, a little less shy. She thought that maybe after last night he realized it wasn’t something to be afraid of, to be intimate with her - or maybe last night he’d been tired and it had made him shy. Or, maybe it had been the satin decorations he’d worn for her. “You could stretch me out a little,” she said. “With your fingers. Or a toy.”

He slipped a finger into her. “You’re really wet,” he mumbled in surprise, looking down to his hand. “More than last night.”

“I’ve been lying here for two hours with your dick poking my leg,” she laughed.

“I wouldn’t mind if you woke me up for that,” he said, looking up to give her a fleeting smile. “Is this okay?” he asked, adding a second finger.

“Yeah,” she said. “Slow, spread them a little. Like that.” She bent her knees, lifted her hips a bit for a better angle. She let her head relax back into her pillow. “Put a third finger. You’re really thick.”

“Am I?” he asked, a bit distractedly.

“Mm. Then again, you’re six feet tall and you’re not skinny.” She gave his bicep a squeeze. “Though you’re no warrior, archery still develops some strength.”

“I practice it regularly,” he said.

She inhaled sharply. “That’s... good. Right there.” He brushed her soft spot again. “Yeah. Oh. Oh, that’s a good spot.”

“Here?”

“Yes,” she answered, trailing off. “Mm. If you want to try four fingers you could.”

“I’ll try.”

His thumb lay over the top of her mound and he carefully used his fingers to spread her. “I really wish that was your cock,” she said after a minute.

“It could be.”

“Please?”

She was very much willing to clean off his fingers like she’d done last night but instead, he reached over to take a few tissues from the nightstand and quickly wiped his hand clean. Luciana spread her legs wide to welcome him, pulling him closer and down so she could hold him close. “Alright?” he breathed.

“Yes.”

She guided him into her, slowly now that he was more aware that he could hurt her. It felt good to have him pressing down on her, skin to skin and hot and hard inside her. “Does it feel good?” he asked.

“Yes.” She rolled her hips a few times to get him moving. “You can push in. Oh, like that.” She was breathing hard now, wanted to grind down on something. She reached down to rub her clit and Anduin shifted to make room for her arm.

“Do you want me to do that?” he asked, smiling.

“No, I want you to fuck me,” she answered. He pulled out and thrust gently and she groaned. “Harder than that. Let go.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.

“You won’t. I like it harder than that.”

His next thrust was a bit faster, a bit harder, and when she encouraged him to go harder by squeezing him tightly he choked on a moan and started to thrust hard and fast. He slowed himself down but kept hilting himself into her. “Oh, Light,” he groaned.

“Angle - angle it up,” she panted and he answered by thrusting from a low point. She cried out. “Oh, fuck. Oh!” She was rubbing her clit with the pad of her finger, found the spot to the left and heat spread instantly from her crotch, from where Anduin was fucking her slow and hard to her thighs and the soles of her feet and to her chest. “Oh, shit. Oh my Light,” She was quickly, too quickly reaching climax, but she didn’t want to stop. “I’m gonna come, Anduin I’m gonna...come.”

He mouthed her neck, copying what she’d done last night and she keened, trying to open her legs more to let him thrust deep. “Lucy,” he breathed into her ear. “It feels so good.”

Her breath stalled in her chest as she came, back arching and legs and stomach twitching uncontrollably. Her hand gripped at Anduin’s hair while the other kept working her clit, trying to draw it out even as Anduin thrust a few final times as he came from the sensation of her squeezing him like a vice, tight and loose and tight again.

“Oh,” he breathed against her neck. “Oh, Lucy.”

“Mm. That’s a nice way to wake up,” she panted.

He laughed, settling his weight on her carefully when she pulled him down. “Is this okay?” he asked. “I’m not too heavy?”

“Not at all.”

It took her a few minutes to recover. “Are you hungry?” Anduin asked.

“Could eat.”

“I’ll go make something?”

“Sure.” She kissed him and he made to get up, and she pulled him down to kiss him again.

“You have to let me go if you want me to make you breakfast,” he laughed when she kept kissing him, soft pecks on his lips and cheeks.

“Fine,” she groaned, releasing him and slumping down onto the mattress. She brought her thighs together and stretched her legs. Anduin watched the limbs straighten and the muscles strain under her skin, and she saw him swallow thickly. She sighed, and sat up. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Okay.” His hand brushed down her back as he stood.

She watched him grab a housecoat from the closet and shrug it on while he left the room. It took a moment to gather enough energy but she managed to heave herself out of bed and stumble to the washroom. It wasn’t particularly warm in the house and she knew Anduin would be chilled in a minute. She debated whether or not she wanted to put something on, but if she did it would make it much less likely that Anduin would try something. 

Instead she walked from the bedroom naked. There was already the sound of sizzling and the smell of fried eggs coming from the kitchen. Anduin stood in front of the gnomish-made stove, powered by a generator that stood outside the house, guarded by a metal mesh fence.

“Smells good,” she greeted, sliding her hands around his waist and into either side of his housecoat. He leaned his weight into her slightly and she kissed his neck. “Where did you learn to cook?” she asked.

“I spent a lot of time in the kitchens as a child,” he answered. “Mostly to avoid Katrana, but also because they’re friendly and didn’t treat me like an idiot. I was willing to learn, so they taught me.”

“Maybe I should thank them,” Luciana said, sighing and kissing his jaw. “Now I’m hungry.”

“Now that you had a chance to work up an appetite?”

She chuckled, settled her forehead against his shoulder. “We have two weeks,” she murmured. “Then I’m heading back to Arathi, probably going to be reassigned somewhere.”

“You’ll come back?” His voice was unsure, though he was trying to keep it light.

“I always will.”

Safety and happiness. Her duty to him, and the rewards he gave her in return for her service.


End file.
